Sri Aurobindo for All Ages

I

SRI AUROBINDO reached Baroda on February 8, 1893, i.e. only two days after his arrival at Bombay. What surprises us is that instead of first visiting his relatives in Bengal, he proceeded straight to Baroda. Could he have come to know the sad news of his parents — his father's death and his mother's illness? Difficult to surmise; perhaps there was urgent need to report for duty and thereafter he had to wait until he could get leave.

Sri Aurobindo joined service immediately. He started in the Survey Settlement Department as an attaché for learning the work. Then he was shifted to various departments until towards the end of 1895 he joined the Dewan's office or the Secretariat where he remained for the next few years. It seemed to be the same kind of work as in the ICS — files, office-work, touring etc. —then why Baroda? In explaining this Sri Aurobindo told us: 'True, but with a difference. Baroda was a native State under a native ruler. You did not have to be all attention to the superior English officer ruling your fate. There was much room for freedom and dignity . '

As an officer of the State Service he could hardly avoid administrative work but his real interests were engaged elsewhere. The Gaekwad, however, was fully aware of Sri Aurobindo's exceptional abilities and was keen to utilize them not only for his State but also for his personal work. He used to call Sri Aurobindo for drafting letters which required careful wording, preparing important memoranda or special reports, and also to write some of his speeches. A well-known Marathi historian, G.S. Sardesai, has an interesting account which throws light on Sri Aurobindo's relationship with the Gaekwad: 'Sri Aurobindo and myself were together with Sayaji Rao very often.... Once the Maharaja had to address a social conference. Sri Aurobindo prepared the speech. We three sat together and read it. The Maharaja after hearing it said: "Can you not, Aravind Babu, tone it down? It is too fine to be mine." Sri Aurobindo replied smiling: '.'Why make a change for nothing? Do you think, Maharaja, that if it is toned down a little, people will believe it to be yours? Good or bad, whatever it be, people will always say that the Maharaja gets his speeches written by others. The main thing is whether the thoughts are yours. That is your chief part." '

You see how Sri Aurobindo maintained his 'freedom and dignity'. I could give you another instance of Sri Aurobindo's independent way of working. On one occasion the Gaekwad passed an order that the officers should attend their office even on Sundays. Sri Aurobindo was not willing to accept the order. The Maharaja fined him Rs.50. When he heard of this Sri Aurobindo said, 'Let him fine as much as he likes. I shall neither pay the fine nor attend the office.' Good sense, however, prevailed on the Gaekwad and he did not press the matter.

For his special work for the Gaekwad Sri Aurobindo would often be invited to breakfast at the palace and would then be asked to stay on; but he was not appointed Private Secretary at any time. However, during a tour of Kashmir in 1903, the Maharaja took along Sri Aurobindo in that capacity, but the experiment was not a success. A disciple once wrote to Sri Aurobindo extolling the beauties of Kashmir and he replied, 'Quite agree with your estimate of Kashmir. The charm of its mountains and rivers and the ideal life dawdling along in the midst of a supreme beauty in the slowly moving leisure of a houseboat — that was a kind of earthly Paradise — also writing poetry on the banks of the Jhelum where it rushes down Kashmir towards the plains. Unfortunately there was the over-industrious Gaekwad to cut short the Paradise! His idea of Paradise was going through administrative papers and making myself and others write speeches for which he got all the credit. But after all, according to the nature, to each one his Eden.'

Despite such differences, however, Sri Aurobindo had a very good relationship with the Gaekwad and his family. He considered the Maharaja to be an able ruler, far in advance of most of his contemporaries; and that the Maharani had a profound regard for Sri Aurobindo is apparent from the fact that in later years she wrote to him at Pondicherry seeking his spiritual help and guidance.

Soon there came an opportunity for more congenial work. How can a poet, litterateur, a man of culture be fitted into the cogwheel of administrative routine? In 1897 there was a suggestion that Sri Aurobindo could work in the Baroda College as a teacher of French. Later his services were lent informally to the College from time to time. Early in 1898 he was appointed Professor of English, and taught at the College in addition to his other official duties. Thus began his long association with the Baroda College which continued until he took extended leave in June 1906 to go to Bengal. In 1899 the Principal of the College, (an Englishman), pressed the Maharaja to make Sri Aurobindo's appointment at the College permanent but the former did not agree as he wanted Sri Aurobindo to write official reports etc. (also to ghost-write his memoirs, but nothing came of this!) and assist him generally in other work. However, by 1904 Sri Aurobindo was made the Vice-Principal of the College and in 1905 he became the acting Principal when the regular incumbent went on leave for a year.

Sri Aurobindo was a wonderful teacher — this is but natural since teaching was his swadharma. Fortunately, a few of his students at Baroda have recorded their impressions, and I shall quote from these, but occasionally in his talks with us also Sri Aurobindo spoke of his teaching days. His brother Manmohan had likewise become a Professor of English at the Presidency College, Calcutta. His teaching too was greatly admired but there was a difference between them. Sri Aurobindo told us: 'Manmohan was very painstaking.... I saw that his books used to be inter-leaved, marked and full of notes. I was not so conscientious.' When one of his disciples, Purani, demurred and said that people who had heard him in College spoke very highly of his lectures, Sri Aurobindo continued: never used to look at the notes, and sometimes my explanations did not agree with them at all.... What was surprising to me was that the students used to take down everything verbatim and mug it up. Such a thing would never have happened in England.... Once I was giving a lecture on Southey's Life of Nelson and my lecture was not in agreement with the notes. So the students remarked that it was not at all like what was found in them. I replied that I had not read the notes — in any case, they were all rubbish. I could never go into minute details. I read and left my mind to do what it could. That is why I could never become a scholar.'

Sri Aurobindo was loved and revered by his students, as much for his profound knowledge of literature, his original way of teaching, as for his magnetic personality and gentle, gracious manners. One of his students, R.N. Patkar, writes in his memoirs: 'I had the good fortune to be his student in the Intermediate Class. His method of teaching was a novel one. In the beginning he used to give a series of introductory lectures in order to initiate the student into the subject matter of the text. After that he used to read the text, stopping where necessary to explain the meaning of difficult words and sentences. He ended by giving general lectures bearing on the various aspects of the subject matter of the text.

But more than his college lectures, it was a treat to hear him on the platform. He used to preside occasionally over the meetings of the College Debating Society. The large central hall of the College used to be full when he was to speak. He was not an orator but a speaker of a very high order, and was listened to with rapt attention. Without any gesture or movements of the limbs he stood, and language flowed like a stream from his lips with natural ease and melody that kept the audience spell-bound.... Though it is more than fifty years since I heard him, I still remember his figure and the ring of his melodious voice.'

Patkar writes further: 'I once asked him how I should improve my English, what authors I should read and study. I had read some portion of Macaulay's Lives of Great Men and I was fascinated by his style. I asked him if I should read Macaulay. Then, as was usual with him, he smiled and replied, "Do not be anybody's slave, but be your own master. By reading Macaulay or any other writer you will never be like him. You will not be a Macaulay but a faint echo of Macaulay. You will but be a copy to be derided by the world, but never an original. Therefore you may read any good author carefully, but should think for yourself and form your own judgment. It is likely you may differ from the views of the writer. You should think for yourself and cultivate a habit of writing and in this way you will be the master of your style."'

K.M. Munshi, a leading politician both before and after Independence, was a student at Baroda College for a time and writes: 'My own contact with Sri Aurobindo dates back to 1902 when after passing the Matriculation examination, I joined the Baroda College. Though previously, I had, only on occasions, the privilege of being in personal contact with him, the Aurobindonian legend in the College filled me with reverence, and it was with awe that I hung upon his words whenever he came to College as Professor of English.'

Sri Aurobindo left an impression on all those who came to know him in the College. Dr. C.R. Reddy, a colleague, recalls: had the honour of knowing him.... Dr. Clark, the Principal, remarked to me, "So you met Aurobindo Ghose. Did you notice his eyes? There is mystic fire and light in them. They penetrate into the beyond. If Joan of Arc heard heavenly voices, Aurobindo probably sees heavenly visions."'

Whilst teaching was a welcome diversion from administrative work, Sri Aurobindo has himself said that his real interest at Baroda lay 'in Sanskrit, in literature and in the national movement'. During his stay in England, Sri Aurobindo had acquired a mastery of European literature and culture but of his own country he knew very little indeed. He was now determined to make up for the deficiency for, if he were ignorant of his country's culture, civilization and religion, how would he serve her? So he started learning Sanskrit and studying the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, the Upanishads, Gita, Kalidasa's plays and other Sanskrit works. He learnt the language all by himself — no doubt the start he had made in England for his ICS studies as well as his proficiency in Greek and Latin were a help in acquiring another classical language, but so great a mastery did he gain over Sanskrit that he was later able to make a deep study of the language of the Vedas and, with the help of his yogic vision, present a new interpretation of these ancient scriptures. Sri Aurobindo had a remarkable flair for languages and soon acquired a working knowledge of Gujarati, Marathi and Bengali. His immense powers of concentration and his ability to read with great rapidity, whilst retaining the essentials of what he read, enabled him to cover a very wide field of studies. Moreover, Sri Aurobindo had now the opportunity of giving expression to his creative talents. His official duties were not onerous and he could hardly have had the same scope if he had joined the ICS. He once observed quizzically: 'I wonder what would have happened to me if I had joined the Civil Service. I think they would have chucked me for insubordination and arrears of work.'

The amount of literary work that Sri Aurobindo produced in Baroda was formidable. This falls into several categories — translations, poems and poetic drama, and prose writings on a wide variety of subjects; regrettably not all of it has been preserved. In May 1908, when Sri Aurobindo was arrested in connection with the Alipore Bomb Case, his papers and manuscripts were seized by the police. They were scrutinized to dig up evidence to convict him for revolutionary activities. Afterwards they were stored away in the Record Room of the Court. Under the rules, they should have been destroyed after the lapse of some years. But, thanks to the sensibility and initiative of the record-keeper, the papers —although shown as destroyed — were preserved in a corner. Later they were kept in a steel cupboard in the Judges' Retiring Room. Then, in the changed circumstances after Independence, the papers were found and a good many of the manuscripts belonging to the Baroda period were discovered. But, unfortunately, not all — for some disappeared 'in the whirlpool and turmoil of my political career' as Sri Aurobindo once described it. One such disappearance is a particularly sad loss. As he plunged into Sanskrit studies, Sri Aurobindo was inevitably drawn to the poetic genius of Kalidasa. It was his intention to write a full-scale book on Kalidasa for which he drew up an outline but he did not have the sustained leisure to complete it. He did, however, write extensively on Kalidasa — on the important works, the characters in the plays, the age he lived in and on other aspects of his genius. Moreover, he took in hand some translations of Kalidasa. Of these, a very fine rendering of Vikramorvasie was later published under the title The Hero and the Nymph, but the manuscript of his translation, in terza rima, of Kalidasa's Meghaduta could not be discovered. I remember that once when we were talking of the subject there was a tinge of regret in Sri Aurobindo's voice at the mention of this manuscript. 'It is a pity that the translation cannot be found,' he said, 'for it was well done.' This makes the loss all the greater, for he seldom spoke of his own achievements. At about this time Sri Aurobindo was also immersed in the Ramayana and Mahabharata and experimented with translations from these epics. When Ramesh Chandra Dutt, the well-known poet, novelist and historian, saw some of these during a visit to Baroda, he is said to have remarked: 'Had I seen them before, I would never have published mine. It now appears that my translations have been child's play before yours.' Besides translations, Sri Aurobindo wrote some 'Notes' on the Mahabharata as well as comments on the poetic genius of Vyasa and Valmiki. Also, he drew on the Mahabharata for a number of his own narrative poems of which Love and Death is the most outstanding. And, of course, for his supreme creation Savitri, the story was taken from the Mahabharata. In addition to poems, both short and long, Sri Aurobindo wrote a number of plays in blank verse. One of these, Perseus the Deliverer, is based on a Greek myth which Sri Aurobindo adapted. It is an imaginative presentation of the ideas of evolution and progress which were to recur so prominently in Sri Aurobindo's later works.

All in all, the Baroda period was wonderfully productive both in terms of interpretation of ancient Indian culture as well as his own literary creations. But the time for political action and his stupendous spiritual experiences was approaching and during the last years of his stay at Baroda he was to be increasingly absorbed in these.

I would now like to tell you how Sri Aurobindo resumed contact with his family in Bengal. Unfortunately, we have very little information to go on and there are many gaps which cannot now be filled.

About eleven months after his arrival at Baroda, in a letter dated January 11, 1894, to his grandfather, Rajnarayan Bose, Sri Aurobindo writes:

My dear Grandfather,

I received your telegram and postcard together this afternoon. I am at present in an exceedingly out of the way place, without any post-office within fifteen miles of it; so it would not be easy to telegraph. I shall probably be able to get to Bengal by the end of next week. I had intended to be there by this time, but there is some difficulty about my last month's salary without which I cannot very easily move. However I have written for a month's privileged leave and as soon as it is sanctioned shall make ready to start.... As I do not know Urdu, or indeed any other language of the country, I may find it convenient to bring my clerk with me. I suppose there will be no difficulty about accommodating him.

I got my uncle's letter enclosing Saro's. The letter might have presented some difficulties, for there is no one who knows Bengali at Baroda — no one at least whom I could get at. Fortunately the smattering I acquired in England stood me in good stead, and I was able to make out the sense of the letter, barring a word here and a word there. ...

If all goes well, I shall leave Baroda on the 18th; at any rate it will not be more than a day or two later.

Believe me
Your affectionate grandson
Aravind A. Ghosh

We do not have the exact dates, nor do we know if he took his clerk with him, but he did pay a visit to Bengal that year, the first since his return to India. He stayed for some time at the house of his grandfather at Deoghar. Naturally all the members of the family were jubilant. Sarojini, his sister, gives a pen-picture: 'A very delicate face, long hair cut in the English fashion, Sejda was a very shy person.' When his mother saw him, she exclaimed: 'He is not my Auro. My Auro was so small. Very well, let me see if he has a cut in his finger.' The cut was shown and she was satisfied. Those of us who attended on him after his accident in 1938 also remember that cut in his finger.

How greatly Sri Aurobindo enjoyed this visit to the family can be appreciated from a letter to his sister Sarojini on his return to Baroda. Here are some extracts from the letter.

Baroda Camp
25th August, 1894

My dear Saro,

... It will be, I fear, quite impossible to come to you again so early as the Puja, though if I only could, I should start tomorrow. Neither my affairs, nor my finances will admit of it. Indeed it was a great mistake for me to go at all; for it has made Baroda quite intolerable to me. There is an old story about Judas Iscariot, which suits me down to the ground. Judas, after betraying Christ, hanged himself and went to Hell where he was honoured with the hottest oven in the whole establishment. Here he must burn for ever and ever; but in his life he had done one kind act and for this they permitted him by special mercy of God to cool himself for an hour every Christmas on an iceberg in the North Pole. Now this has always seemed to me not mercy, but a peculiar refinement of cruelty. For how could Hell fail to be ten times more Hell to the poor wretch after the delicious coolness of his iceberg? I do not know for what enormous crime I have been condemned to Baroda, but my case is just parallel. Since my pleasant sojourn with you at Baidyanath, Baroda seems a hundred times more Baroda....

You say in your letter 'all here are quite well'; yet in the very next sentence I read 'Bari has an attack of fever'. Do you mean then that Bari is nobody? Poor Bari! That he should be excluded from the list of human beings is only right and proper, but it is a little hard that he should be denied existence altogether. I hope it is only a slight attack. I am quite well. I have brought a fund of health with me from Bengal, which, I hope it will take me some time to exhaust; but I have just passed my twenty-second milestone, August 15 last, since my birthday and am beginning to get dreadfully old.

I infer from your letter that you are making great progress in English. I hope you will learn very quickly; I can then write to you quite what I want to say and just in the way I want to say it. I feel some difficulty in doing that now and I don't know whether you will understand it.

With love,
Your affectionate brother
Auro

P.S. If you want to understand the new orthography of my name, ask uncle.

In what a delightful vein have laughter and tears mingled here! Mark too that he draws attention to the orthography or spelling of his name — the old 'Arvind' giving way to 'Aurobindo'.

When this letter was written, 'Bari' or Barindra, the youngest brother was fourteen years of age and Sarojini a couple of years older. The eldest brother Benoybhusan, had returned to India by then to make a career in the Cooch Behar State Service. Manmohan had just completed his studies at Oxford and earned his M.A. degree; he would be returning shortly to India to distinguish himself as an outstanding Professor of English in Government Service. Amongst his family members his maternal uncle, Jogendra, the eldest son of Rajnarayan Bose, was perhaps the closest to Sri Aurobindo. He was a cheerful and kindly man and Sri Aurobindo always enjoyed his company, calling him the 'Prophet of Ishabgul' for he used to prescribe this indigenous laxative to all with any kind of stomach complaint.

After this first visit Sri Aurobindo generally went to Bengal when he could obtain leave or during the College vacations. In Calcutta he often stayed with his maternal uncle, Krishna Kumar Mitra, an ardent patriot, who was later the editor of the Nationalist weekly Sanjivani. His daughter, Basanti Devi, has recorded her impressions of her cousin: 'Alin) Dada used to arrive with two or three trunks, and we always thought they must contain costly suits and other articles of luxury like scents etc. When he opened them, I used to look and wonder, — what is this? A few ordinary clothes and all the rest books and nothing but books. Does Auro Dada like to read all of them? We all want to chat and enjoy ourselves during our vacations; does he want to spend even this time in reading books? But because he liked reading, it did not mean that he would not join us in our chats and merry-making. His talk used to be full of wit and humour.'

These few authentic accounts we have of Sri Aurobindo's early meetings with his family reveal the affectionate side of his nature. He was by no means aloof and indifferent but interested in life and the people around him. Yet, the overall impression is one of inwardness, quiet poise and easy good humour.

Let me now give you a few glimpses of Sri Aurobindo's personal life at Baroda. In his biography of Sri Aurobindo, A.B. Purani has described the routine as follows: 'After morning tea Sri Aurobindo used to write poetry. He would continue up to ten o'clock. Bath was between ten and eleven o'clock and lunch at eleven o'clock — a cigar would be by his side even while he ate. Sri Aurobindo used to read journals while he ate. He took less of rice and more of bread. Once a day there was meat or fish....'

There exists for us, fortunately, a vivid and detailed pen-picture of Sri Aurobindo at Baroda by a contemporary. This writer was a man of letters, sensitive to atmosphere and personality, and the circumstances under which he wrote were interesting. At Baroda, Sri Aurobindo soon came to acquire a good grasp of literary Bengali which enabled him, as early as 1894, to write a series of articles of great depth and penetration, on Bankim Chandra. But, for want of practice, he could hardly express himself in spoken Bengali and he must have felt this deficiency during his visits to Bengal. So he arranged with his maternal uncle that Dinendra Kumar Roy, a well-known writer in Bengali, should come and stay with him as a companion at Baroda so that Sri Aurobindo could practise speaking with him in the vernacular. Roy stayed at Baroda for two years, from 1899 to 1900, and later wrote a charming little book of reminiscences in Bengali called Aurobindo Prasanga, in which he throws an authentic light on many aspects of Sri Aurobindo's life.

Of his first meeting with Sri Aurobindo, Roy writes:

‘Before I met Aurobindo, I had formed an image of him somewhat like this: a stalwart figure, dressed from head to foot in immaculate European style, a stern gaze in his spectacled eyes, an affected accent and a temper exceedingly rough, one who would not tolerate the slightest breach of form. It is needless to add that I was rather disappointed in my estimate when I saw him for the first time. Who could have thought that this darkish young man with soft dreamy eyes and long, thin, wavy hair parted in the middle and reaching to the neck, clad in coarse Ahmedabad dhoti and close-fitting Indian jacket, his feet shod in old-fashioned Indian slippers with upturned toes, a face sparsely dotted with pockmarks — who could have thought that this man could be Mr. Aurobindo Ghose, a living fountain of French, Latin and Greek? I could not have received a bigger shock if someone had pointed to the hillocks about Deoghar and said: "Look, there stand the Himalayas." ...

‘He had gone to England as a mere boy, almost on the lap of his mother, and it was much after the first flush of his youth that he had returned to his motherland. But what struck me as amazing was that his noble heart had suffered not the least contamination from the luxury and dissipation, the glitter and glamour, the diverse impressions and influences, and the strange spell of Western society.'

The portrait drawn by Dinendra Kumar is truly astonishing. Fourteen of the most formative years of his life Sri Aurobindo had spent in England and yet within a few years of his return he had become an Indian to the core. This could happen only because of his inner strength which could imbibe and assimilate the best of European culture whilst rejecting its outward trappings to which most others so readily succumb.

In this book Roy also gives us a graphic description of Sri Aurobindo's immense powers of concentration and his deep absorption in books and studies: 'Two well-known booksellers of Bombay were his regular suppliers of books.... They used to supply his selected books on deposit account. He seldom received books by post; they came by railway parcels, packed in huge cases. Sometimes small parcels came twice or thrice in the course of a month. He would finish the books in eight or ten days and place fresh orders. I have never seen such a voracious reader....

‘Aurobindo would sit at his table and read in the light of an oil lamp till one in the morning, unmindful of the intolerable bites of the mosquitoes. I used to see him seated there in the same posture for hours on end, his eyes fixed on the book he was reading, like a Yogi plunged in divine contemplation and lost to all sense of what was going on outside. Even if the house had caught fire, it could not have broken his contemplation. Often he would read through the night, poring over books in the different languages of Europe —books of poetry, fiction, history, philosophy, etc.'

Another side still of Sri Aurobindo has been brought out very well by Roy. He writes:

‘Aurobindo used to get a handsome pay. He was single, he had no luxuries and did not waste an anna. Still at the end of the month he ran short of funds. He used to remit something regularly to his family. One day seeing him fill up a money-order form I too had the desire to send some money home. So I asked him for the amount. He laughed and, offering me whatever he had, said, "This is all I have — send it." I replied, "That can't be — as you were filling a money-order form, I thought — no, I shall send something later." But he shook his head and added, "Your need is greater than mine."'

R.N. Patkar, from whose memoirs I have quoted earlier, has also dwelt on these very traits. He writes:

'Sri Aurobindo used to be so absorbed while reading that he often forgot to have his dinner. At the servant's request, I had to remind him of Another thing I noticed was his total absence of attachment for money. Whatever monthly salary he received he used to place in an open tray and keep no account. One day I asked him why he didn't keep his money safe somewhere. He answered: "Well, it shows we are living among honest and good people." "But how will you know this unless you keep an account?" He replied quietly, "God keeps my account. Why should I worry when he is taking care of me?"'

Finally, a few more revealing sketches of Sri Aurobindo from the pen of Dinendra Kumar Roy: 'He was not in the habit of dressing up. I never saw him change his ordinary clothes even while going to the Maharaja's court.... Like his dress, his bed was also ordinary and simple. The iron bedstead he used was such that even a petty clerk would have disdained to use it. Baroda being near a desert, both summer and winter were severe there; but even in the cold of January I never saw him use a quilt — a cheap ordinary rug did duty for it. He always appeared to me nothing but a self-denying brahmachari, austere in self-discipline and acutely sensitive to the suffering of others. Acquisition of knowledge seemed to be the sole mission of his life. And for the fulfilment of that mission, he practised rigorous self-culture even amidst the din and bustle of an active worldly life. I never saw him lose his temper. No passion was ever seen getting the better of him. It is not possible to have such control without the highest self-discipline.

‘Marathi food did not agree with my taste, but Aurobindo was accustomed to it. Sometimes the cooking was so bad that I could hardly take a bite, but he ate quite naturally. I never saw him express any displeasure to the cook. He had a particular liking for Bengali food. The quantity of food he took was very small; and it was because of his abstemious and temperate habits that he kept perfectly fit in spite of heavy mental labour. He took good care of his health. For one hour every evening he would pace up and down the verandah of his house with brisk steps.

His laughter was simple as a child's, and as liquid and soft. Though an inflexible will showed at the corners of his lips, there was not the slightest trace in his heart of any worldly ambition or of selfishness. There was only the longing, rare even among the gods, of sacrificing himself for the relief of human suffering.

‘Aurobindo was always indifferent to pleasure and pain, prosperity and adversity, praise or blame. He bore all hardships with an unruffled mind.'

Yet it should not be thought that at Baroda Sri Aurobindo led the life of a recluse, or of an intellectual immersed in books. On the contrary, it was always Sri Aurobindo's nature to study life in its various manifestations. He was interested in music, dancing and other cultural activities — from time to time, he would attend Court functions, entertainments, etc. Also, he had his circle of friends in whose company he relaxed. Amongst these may be mentioned Khaserao Jadav, who was a magistrate and a colleague in the Baroda State Service, his younger brother Li Madhavrao Jadav of the Baroda State Army, and Phadke, a young Maratha Brahmin of genial temperament and a man of letters. In fact, for some years Sri Aurobindo lived in Khaserao's house at Baroda, a beautiful two-storeyed building situated on the main road of the town; Madhavrao too was close to Sri Aurobindo and helped him in his political work. But Sri Aurobindo's life was never lived on the surface and behind the apparently placid external routine, he had started secret revolutionary work. And, within, burnt a blazing fire.