Talks by Nirodbaran

17 September 1969

Well, light has descended on my home front! (Laughter) What with the descent of light on my home front and the breeze that is coming from the Himalayas ... I am especially happy, my friends, this morning; I have a reason to be happy. The reason of my happiness is this that, after a long, long time, I heard His voice last night, calling me by name, right into my right eardrum. I was very

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much puzzled, sprang up from my deep sleep, looked this way and that; saw nothing but a dark void. But I understood whose voice it was. I looked at the watch; it was about quarter past eleven. So I was wondering why He had called me at this unearthly time. Does He mean to allow me some sleep or not? At the same time, there was some doubt whether it was His authentic voice or that of the other gentleman in His disguise.

Anyhow, perhaps I understood what He wanted. I sat for meditation, but nothing happened, and I lay down again quietly. But in the morning, I was wondering why He had given me this visit at such an unusual, unearthly time. There are sometimes reasons, sometimes there aren't. Another reason, I found to my satisfaction, was this: I was telling my young friends here, yesterday, that I had no headache about what to say today so I don't need any aspirin - because I will straight away plunge into this story ("My Friend and My Master" by Charu Dutt) which was left half-finished the other day. Then this young lady over there (Bithi) interposed: "No introduction?" I said, "What introduction!?" And I dismissed it at once. But the thing haunted me: Introduction, introduction... No introduction! Nothing came, so I appealed to the Headquarters: "Do please give something to save my face and which will serve as a preface to what I shall read." And then perhaps I thought this was the reply so that I might say that I have heard the Voice of the Lord. Whether this was the right explanation or not, it made me happy, and it makes you happy too. I believe that the Lord came, visited me and gave some food to distribute to you so that you may be happy. So in conclusion, I am happy, you are happy and the world is happy. If the world is not happy, as we say in our parlance, let it go to H ...! But it doesn't matter at all whether the world is happy or not; we believe that so long as we are happy, the world is bound to be happy. The happiness of the world lies within us - a very great, a very proud, a very insolent remark, but it is true. We have made Giri²²⁷ happy. (Laughter) We have made Indira Gandhi

227 V.V. Girl, the fourth President (from 24 August 1969 to 23 August 1974) of the Republic of India.

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happier, though we have made some other people unhappy. But you understand then, that the happiness of the world lies with us. So let us be happy and cheerful all the way, with no tears, no heartaches, no heartbreaks!

Now that you are satisfied with the short introduction, I can start the story. How far have I read? I don't remember; the page mark has been removed. To continue: [Reading from Charu Dutt's article "My Friend and My Master"]

In that remote age, there was another thing, a very subtle thing that Sri Aurobindo gave me. It is still with me, secretly installed in my heart. It was of great use to me at one time; but ever since the Master and the Mother have taken up abode in the recesses of my heart, its work has become secondary. Still there it is, ever ready to help me. Let me explain more clearly. In those days, I had a very srrange faculty (not Yogic because I knew no Yoga). If I sat still absent-mindedly, especially in the dark or half dark, I felt clearly my blood coursing in my veins and arteries and consequently I could count quite easily the beating of my pulse. Still more strange was my power to look inside my thorax and abdomen and see clearly my internal organs - heart, lungs, liver, etc. I had only to concentrate for a little while to be able to do this. Sri Aurobindo knew of this queer faculty of mine, but never encouraged me in any way. One day, in ordinary conversation, I said to him, "Aurobindo, why don't you give me some nice object on which I can concentrate more easily." This time he did not say "Not yet" to put me off summarily. But he did not give any assurance either. He went back to Baroda in a couple of days. Soon afterwards I had this peculiar experience. It was a dark, drizzly evening. I was stretched in my long chair with eyes closed. Suddenly my gaze turned inwards. I visualised not only the inside of my chest but saw clearly, inside my heart, seated in Padmasana, an entrancing figure, all made of light, - a Yogi in meditation. The face was beautiful but resembled no face that I had ever known. That luminous image has been with me ever since, and, at all times, I have found it absolutely easy to be concentrated on it. Latterly the face of the image has sometimes got mixed up with the Masters face, but not often. Aurobindo never admitted that he had given any such image to me. Whenever I questioned him, he replied in an offhand way, "O! That image of yours? I know nothing about it." Of course, there is no longer any need for speculation. A direct path of

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approach has been opened up by the Mother in my heart.

It was at this same period that Sri Aurobindo wrote to me once from Baroda, asking me, "When you sit in silent concentration (or absent-mindedly, as you call it), do you see any colours? One colour or many colours?" I replied, "Always one colour, a beautiful rosy light, but, why this question?" There was no reply. When he came to me again, I chafed him, saying, "You had better not let me see any colour other than blood-red, Chief;"

"Blood-red", I understand, for revolution.

"...otherwise your work is likely to suffer." He mumbled in a preoccupied way, "My work! True." Thus we met from time to time and again parted. But he knew always that I was his devoted and faithful friend. For, as I came to realise in 1940, he had never really forsaken me. The parting in 1910 was, for me, indeed hard to bear. The pain of that separation I nursed in my mind for thirty whole years. At the very first opportunity, I laid bare my lacerated heart before the Mother. She asked me, in all tenderness, "Do you understand now, why Sri Aurobindo came away here in 1910?" I answered gaily, "Yes, I do, Mother. As soon as I understood it, I ran up to you." My barque had at last reached its haven and I was indeed happy.

There has been, till very recently, a lot of discussion about the Master's move from Calcutta to Chandernagore and again, from the latter town to Pondicherry. Some malicious people have been deliberately spreading lies to belittle him and to cast dirt on his character. In this connection, I had the great good fortune of receiving a long letter from Sri Aurobindo. He stated clearly therein that he had moved both times in obedience to orders from above. Interested people did not believe this and continue to put their own interpretation on his movements. The least offensive was what his friend Shyamsundar once said [comparing Sri Aurobindo to the cowherd of Brindaban] - "My Kanai has gone to Mathura and put on a royal head-gear."

Let that be. I found my Kanu again in 1940. He was wearing the divine peacock feather on his head. But, as I have stated already, I could cast but one stolen fleeting glance at him, during the first Darshan. In the August Darshan, my wife was with me. We gazed at him to our hearts' content. On the morrow, Purani came to us and said, "Do you know what Sri Aurobindo said yesterday? - "This time I had a good look at Charu, and I recognised Lilavati quite

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easily.'"

I have omitted to relate an experience which I had on my return to Calcutta after the first Darshan. Let me tell the story fully. It may have a subtle meaning. As I saw Sri Aurobindo, that first time, there was a sky-blue radiance about him and he had a peacock feather on his head. I have already mentioned this. Everyone does not see him like this, but I certainly did. And there was a subtle reason for it. In 1937,I was in bed, for several weeks, with severe pain in my knees. When I recovered, a sister-in-law of mine said to me, "Brother, during your illness, I made a vow to my Govindaji, that you would after recovery put a Bakul garland round his neck twice a year - on Dol Purnima and Ras Purnima. Have I acted wrongly?" I said with some hesitation, "You should have taken my permission first, sister. But never mind. I shall fulfil your vow in your name." Accordingly, I garlanded the deity several times on the specific days. To my knowledge, I did it mechanically without even bowing down to the image. But who knows what was happening subconsciously.

In another way too, I was in close touch with the image of the divine Flute-Player. At that period, for some years, I used to paint Dhyan images of our Gods and Goddesses, in the Indian way. I never got to be good at it, but I pursued the art very diligently. My favourite subject was Krishna the flute-player, and I had done over twenty-five pictures of Him. All this might have something to do with my first view of Sri Aurobindo in February 1940. My understanding is too crude to account for it. But what happened a few days later cannot, by any means, be called an affair of the mind. My nephew received me at Howrah on my return from Pondicherry in March and took me straight on to their shrine of Govindaji, saying that it was Dol Purnima day and I had to garland the Deity. As usual, I approached Govindaji with the garland of bakul. But it was no earthen image that I saw this time. Govinda opened his eyes with a gentle smile, and looked at me, exactly as Sri Aurobindo had done at Pondicherry. The resemblance was truly striking! I took two handfuls of the festive red powder and smeared his cheeks saying, "If this is what you willed to do, why did you make me wait so long?!" There was a crowd of devotees present who shouted out "Jai Govindaji". I did not, however, continue garlanding our household deity for long. My sister, the devotee of the God, gave me my release a year later, saying, "You have now got your own Govindaji, Dada!"

And, truly, Govinda had become mine definitely. There is no doubt about it. The beautiful face of the blue boy of Brindaban, with

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his bewitching smile, is ever present in my heart. I am not a learned man; in all probability, I am not even a true lover of learning; the God of wisdom is, to me, a distant divinity. But the charmer of my heart 1 know and understand, by the very force of my love. I cannot resist the temptation of recounting a rather childish tale. It was not long ago. On the morrow of our Darshan, while receiving the flower garland from the Mother, I said to her, "My Mother, how beautiful Sri Aurobindo was yesterday!" The Mother replied, with a benign smile, "Wasn't he magnificent (magnifique)?"²²⁸ Something prompted me to say, "Not magnificent, Mother! He was charming (charmant)!' Later on, when I heard that the Mother had repeated this bit of childishness to the Mastet, my heart was full. I felt as if my tribute of tender love had reached Him.

Let me tell two very short tales about a sadhak's contact with his Master. I have already recounted how I smeared Govindaji's image with the festive red powder in Calcutta. Subsequently, I was, once, seized with a keen desire to put some red Abir²²⁹ on the feet of my living Govinda. How could it be done? We discussed the question again and again at home. At last, when the day of the festival arrived, my wife solved the problem by going straight up to the Mother and laying our earnest desire at her feet. The Gracious Mother agreed at once to put some red Abir on the Master's feet, on our behalf. Next morning she gave us the powder sanctified by the touch of His feet.

I don't remember exactly whether Mother gave the powder to me or whether She did it Herself. My faint recollection is that perhaps it was given to me to touch to "the Master's feet", as he says.

The other story also indicates the Mother's great compassion. In those days, I had been, for some years, in the habit of turning the rosary, while meditating on the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. One morning, I said to the former on the staircase, "My Mother, I am in the habit of turning my rosary daily. May I bring it up tomorrow and place it at your feet? I am very keen on it." Needless to say, I got her permission immediately. Next morning, as I touched her feet with the rosary, I was prompted to say, "Mother, is it possible to place this rosary at Sri Aurobindo's feet?" The Mother smiled benignly and replied, "Why not? Give it to me. I shall do it today."

That I remember.

228Magnificent.

229Mica powder - serves the same purpose as kumkum.

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On the morrow, I got my rosary back. The Mother said, "I told Sri Aurobindo that it was yours." I was in raptures.

During these last few years, when, like so many others, the only glimpse I had of him was for five or six seconds at Darshan time, the heart was ever thirsty for closer contact with him. I shall not recount here my visions of him in sleep and in meditations. Many of these I have brought to the Mother's notice, from time to time, and that has given me intense satisfaction. But I have had contact with the Master in my waking moments too. Of a few of these, I shall tell my readers here. Contact with a Divine personality does not occur through the eyes alone. The ears play a very important part, at times.

You heard just now about how I used to hear Sri Aurobindo's voice occasionally.

For several months, I, along with a few others, used to sit at the head of the main staircase, early every morning, to receive the Mother's blessings. Almost invariably we used to hear the Master doing his exercises in bed and felt his presence almost tangibly.

There is a long tale that I shall narrate later on, perhaps when we shall come to touch upon the subject of His exercises. It is a very humorous tale, but at the same time, very serious also. I should not anticipate, I should not break the thread of this story just now. But just remember He also used to do exercise in bed (Laughter) after His accident. It was at the very sound or unsound advice of our chief doctor - Manilal. He said, "Sir, you must do some exercise." It was quite comical. (Laughter) Sri Aurobindo doing exercise! Anyhow, so it is true that he heard the Master doing exercise in bed. You may speculate on it: how exercise in bed could be heard at a distance, not seen! But I say that it is true.

Then, when he came to stay in the Darshan hall for a few weeks, we could sometimes hear him downstairs, a gentle cough or a word uttered, now and then, during Nirod's perusal of the papers. Also, sometimes, standing in Amrita's room, I would hear the Master's footsteps as he walked upstairs.

You know He shifted from the main room to the Darshan hall when the main room was under renovation.

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All these were invaluable experiences in the path of Yoga. But, one particular experience which I had, some three years ago, is well worth recounting. I was having an afternoon nap one day when, all of a sudden, feeling a tremendous upheaval of some sort inside me, I sat up in bed, bathed in perspiration. Five minutes later, I went into the next room and stretched myself in a long chair, still feeling rather dazed. Dr. Nirod appeared unexpectedly and said that the Master had sent him to ask me a particular question. The question was very unimportant, and yet such as could be answered by me alone in this place. I asked Nirod when Sri Aurobindo had given him the mandate. He replied, "Just about a quarter of an hour ago." It was, then, at that precise moment that I had felt such a tremendous tug inside. My response to the Master's recollection of me!

I have said already that Sri Aurobindo wrote a letter to me on the subject of his visit to Chandernagore. He had said to Purani the evening before, "I have got to write to Charu tomorrow morning; remind me of it, Purani." Again, at midnight, he called out to Purani from his bed, "I have to write to Charu early in the morning, don't forget."

Purani, by the way, used to attend on Sri Aurobindo at 2 a.m. From 2 to 4 a.m. was his duty. He saved us so much trouble by choosing these unearthly hours for his duty, and we could sleep.

Before I left for Calcutta the next day, I received the letter from Nolini Babu. After thirty-five years, a letter in his handwriting came to my hand. It thrilled me. But he, too, as Purani told me in the morning, was thinking of the letter, the previous evening, off and on. Herein lies the infinite Mercy of the Divine towards his humble devotee.

In speaking of Divine Mercy, can we differentiate between the Mercy of Sri Aurobindo and that of the Mother ? In truth, we cannot think of the one separately from the other. In my first Darshan, I made two pranams, one to each. But it was only just that once! I never committed the mistake again. Even today, when apparently the Mother alone sits and receives our pranams, do we not all know that the Master is always behind her? Has he not taught us this external Truth again and again, in words and action! In 1940, when I came to Pondicherry first, I was much feebler physically than I am today. By whose grace have I grown stronger ? That of Sri Aurobindo alone? Of the Mother alone? I shall relate a short tale by way of reply. About five years ago, one morning, as I was doing my pranam

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to the Mother, I was suddenly prompted to say, "My Mother, I have one great sorrow in my life. Being something of a cripple, I cannot put my forehead on your feet, like the others." The gracious Mother replied, "That is easily remedied! You can sit two steps below where I stand, and put your forehead on my feet."

Mother used to stand at the head of the staircase.

Two mornings in succession I did this and I was in raptures. On the third day, I said to the Mother, "Mother, you have fulfilled my heart's desire, and satisfied me completely. I shall not trouble you again. From tomorrow I shall touch your feet with my hands as usual." Two days later came the Darshan. I did not know if the Mother had told Sri Aurobindo anything. But I saw that he looked me all over from head to toe as I approached and, as I learnt from my wife and one or two others who were just behind me, the Master's eyes followed me as I walked away, for as far as I was visible. From that day, the stiffness of my knees went on decreasing rapidly. This sort of thing is happening constantly here, as everyone knows. Call it a miracle or not, as you like! I call it Divine Grace - the Grace of the Master and the Mother.

But what people outside are constantly asking is this: was there anything miraculously visible in Sri Aurobindo's actions before he came to Pondicherry? I shall not in reply say either yes or no, but relate certain small incidents directly within my knowledge, and leave the reader to draw his own conclusions. I am not claiming for my Master any occult powers. I shall be satisfied with recounting my experiences. There will always be traducers like Shishupala to challenge the divinity of an embodied divine Person! First comes the story of Sri Aurobindo's marksmanship, which I once told in the pages of the journal Parichay, fifteen years ago. It has since been retold in many languages, even in authoritative biographies of the Master. It was many years ago that Aurobindo had come to me in Thana on a short holiday. A dark, dull, drizzly evening; we had nothing particular to do and were amusing ourselves with a little saloon rifle. My wife said to Sri Aurobindo, "Come, Ghose Saheb, take a hand." He would not at first agree, giving the excuse that he had never touched a gun and that he knew nothing about shooting. As we refused to let him off, he picked up the rifle at last. I tried to explain to him the technique of aiming over a V-sight. But he turned to my wife and said, "You stand by me, Lilavati, Charu is too hasty." Then he started firing, and after just one or two slight

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mistakes, got the target again and again. The target was the head of a match stick at about twelve feet! Fifteen years ago I said, by way of joke, "If realisation in Yoga does not come to such a man, will it come to bunglers like you and me!" I say the same thing even now.

Another time, when Aurobindo came to us at Thana, my brother-in-law, Subodh Mallik, was staying with us. We had a great time together. Aurobindo and Subodh became very friendly during their stay in Thana, and this friendship of theirs ripened into close association, when Subodh entered into political life a year later. At his insistence, Aurobindo accepted the direction of the National College and of the newly started daily paper, Bande Mataram. During this period he lived mostly in Subodh's [house in Wellington Square] - not only as an honoured guest, but practically as a member of the family. Our mother he addressed as mother and she addressed him as either Aurobindo or simply as Baba. It was indeed marvellous - a vastly learned man, a great political leader like him, dropping his formidable personality and becoming one with another family, in love and affection! In the Calcutta house, Aurobindo became, to my wife, even more of a brother then he had been in Bombay. Ordinarily he was averse to accepting personal service. But it was by no means an uncommon sight to see Lilavati wiping the sweat and combing his hair tenderly after his return from work, and he protesting, "But why ? I have got no lice in my hair." The ladies of the house cooking little things for him was a daily occurrence, both in Thana and in Calcutta. He never objected to that, as he was a connoisseur of good food. But be it remembered that he was always a small eater. Let me relate a short tale: It was an evening in my Thana bungalow, when both Aurobindo and Subodh were staying with us. My wife asked, "Will you people have melon ice?" Aurobindo replied with enthusiasm, "Excellent idea! But let us have plenty of it." The Sberbat was duly made and put into the freezer. As it was going to take a little time to be ready, Subodh proposed a game of cards to pass the time. Aurobindo said, "Most certainly, only, I do not know any of the games you people play. I used to play whist a little in England, as a boy." Subodh cried out, "All right, whist let it be." We started to play - Subodh and I against Aurobindo and my wife. Aurobindo said to his partner, "We are going to beat them hollow, Lilavati. But you must explain things, a bit, to me." He said, he remembered the names of the four suits and also that there were thirteen cards in each suit. That was about all. His partner told him that the objective was to take tricks and

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explained to him how this was to be done. Then began the game. It was very one-sided, for he managed to rope in most of the high cards and seemed to know, for certain, what cards each player held. Quite innocently, without an effort, he did all this and won game after game. After a little while, I threw my cards down on the table saying, "How do you expect us to play, O Tyagarajan!²³⁰ if you take the best cards yourselves, the whole time ?" Why I called him Tyagarajan that evening, I don't recollect now, but he mentioned the word to Purani only a couple of years ago. I don't think I shall be wrong if I say that his card-playing was on a par with his rifle shooting, which I have already described. It was gramarye²³¹ of some sort, as the medieval people called it. My wife said graciously, "All right, you quarrelsome people, we shall forego all we have won. Now, go and get ready for the ices." Her partner said, "We have certainly won by superior skill, and we give away our winnings out of sheer generosity, Lilavati. Well, I shall get through my Ahnik²³² and come back in fifteen minutes for my ices." But he did not return in fifteen minutes, nor even in half an hour. When about forty minutes had passed, the servant said, "The ice has set so beautifully, madam. In another ten minutes it will begin to go soft again." I said to Subodh, "Come, let us call him." We carried a couple of brass cups each and threw ourselves on his closed door. Subodh and I weighed full twenty seven stone, so my reader can imagine the racket we made. But it had no effect. We went back to my wife and reported that her guest must have fallen asleep. So we had two fat helpings of that delicious melon ice. When we had finished, Aurobindo came along rubbing his eyes. We made profuse, but insincere, apologies for having taken our share of the ice before [he could take his share]. He smiled and said, "Greedy fellows! Never mind, Lilavati, give me my share. It has gone soft, you say ? Well, it could not have lost its sweetness." Then I asked, "While you were meditating, were you not upset by some big noise?" He replied glibly, "Big noise! No. But something seemed to disturb me for a moment, then I went off again. But I have enjoyed this Sherbat immensely, Lilavati." Rightly did I bestow the name of Tyagarajan on him, that evening!

Many stories have been told of Sri Aurobindo's wonderful memory in his old age - especially those that we have heard from Nirod in connection with his literary work.

230Sri Aurobindo is being addressed in this manner, because he was a born yogi and all the signs of renunciation were apparent in him. "Thyagarajan" is the supreme royal practitioner of renunciation.

231Occult magic or sorcery.

232Daily practice, most probably of pranayama or meditation.

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I don't remember them myself. My memory has failed me!

But his memory was outstanding even when he was a comparatively young man. In 1906-7, sometimes, when he returned from his college he found us engaged in playing poker or dice. As he did not take any interest in these gambling games, he would pick up some book and go through it rapidly while waiting for his tea. We had noticed this and had resolved to test him and find out if he really read through the whole book or merely glanced out a page, here and there. One day, he found a six-penny novel - utter trash - lying on the divan, and plunged into it forthwith.

My friends, do you get encouragement to do likewise?! (Laughter)

He read the book rapidly and, at the end of half an hour or so, threw it down. Subodh was looking at him through the corner of one eye. He took up the book promptly and asked, "Have you really been over the whole book?" "Yes." "Can you repear to us any portion of it?" "Yes." Subodh called out to me, "Now, Charu, for the viva voce examination." I opened the book at a certain page at random. It began this way: "The Mand and I went out into the moonlit garden." I read the line and said, "Now go on, Chief." Well, with very little alteration he repeated the whole page. This is a more striking feat of memory than any that I have ever come across. Yogic power? I don't say so. But it is marvellous concentration!

Perhaps some of you know the marvellous story of Vivekananda -another feat of memory. I don't know all the exact details. He was on a tour of India as a wandering sannyasi. He arrived somewhere in southern India and stayed with a rich Zamindar or a Raja.²³³ And he was casually turning the pages of the Encyclopaedia Britannica. A learned pandit came to see him and saw him turning over the pages and closing the book as Sri Aurobindo had done in the example just cited. The learned pandit was very much shocked by this very slovenly, casual way of looking at the Encyclopaedia, "Sir, is this the way to read?" - Perhaps I'm putting it in my own way. (Laughter) "What, have you read it?" Vivekananda answers: "Yes." "Can I test you a bit ?" "Yes." So from whichever page he turned to, the pandit

233 In that period, there were landlords, who were like kings ruling over a small territory. These were really Zamindars (literally, 'Holders of Land') but they were often referred to as Rajas of small kingdoms.

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asked him something, and Vivekananda answered correctly word for word. The pandit was simply amazed and demanded: "How could you do it?" Vivekananda replied, "Well, my friend, there is a simple way. If one observes Brahmacharya²³⁴ for twelve years in mind and heart and action - then he can get this power of memory." You know what Brahmacharya is. But to be a Brahmachari or Brahmacharin, in mind, even in thought - that is the greatest challenge, as you can well understand.

So there, what marvellous concentration! I find that, in my case, in spite of Brahmacharya or whatever I am doing, my memory is vanishing! (Laughter) Perhaps I'm doing it in the wrong way! (Laughter) Ladies and gendemen, the bell has rung. If you give me some more time, I can finish reading Charu Dutt's article. Shall I or shall I not ? Your dining room bell is calling you. Shall I finish it ? Yes ? Thank you. You'll be amply rewarded.

It would be superfluous to narrate any more tales of this sort. For the average unprejudiced reader, it should not be necessary. Who but an absolutely wooden-headed man would say that the Master wrote His The Life Divine and Savitri by the power of his intellect alone ? His powers in his more youthful days were but forerunners of his later Yogic realisation. They were indications of his innate spiritual capacity. Otherwise, no ordinary man, who had never handled a gun, could suddenly display the kind of marksmanship that I have described. Nor could such a man take up casually a book of a hundred pages and in half an hour practically know it by heart. Nor could he, an absolute novice, play such a game of whist where he knew beforehand what cards each player held. All these things are certainly not logical according to our way of thinking. But they can all be explained by what he himself has called the "logic of the Infinite".

The course of Sri Aurobindo's life has undoubtedly been mysterious. He has himself said in a letter that it has not been visible on the surface and therefore it has been beyond the ken of the ordinary man. Then again, he had always been, even in the days of his political activity, averse to pushing himself forward. He had been ever inclined to work from behind other people. He said once,

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by way of joke, that it was the British Government who dragged him out into publicity.

He said to us that He never hankered for name or fame.

When he was arrested the first time, for sedition, I was in Thana. Barin was staying with me. Suddenly a wire came to the effect that Aurobindo had been arrested for sedition and that he was disinclined to make any defence. I sent Barin back that very day with a strong letter that we must defend the case and that I was coming to Calcutta as soon as possible. Rabindranath [Tagore] published his famous poem, "Aurobindo, accept the salutation of Rabindra." There was a great commotion in the country. The main point in the case was whether Aurobindo Ghose was the Editor of the Bande Mataram, or not. In the office we found the press copy of a letter written to some correspondent to the effect that "Our editor, Aurobindo Babu, is out of town just now and that we shall send a reply to your letter as soon as he is back." As this press copy was most damaging to our case we destroyed it. Ultimately, the prosecution failed to prove that Aurobindo Babu was the editor, and the magistrate, Mr. Kingsford, had to acquit him. A couple of days later, one afternoon we were celebrating the happy event very noisily - when a sepoy came and said, "Rabi Babu has come." We rushed out to the front door. The poet spread out his arms and held the Chief in a close embrace, saying with a tender smile, "You have deceived me, Aurobindo Babu." The latter replied, "Not for long, I assure you."

I hope you understand. What he meant was that Sri Aurobindo was arrested and He would have been convicted, so they were all thinking of Him as a martyr. But as He was released, so he (Rabi Babu) said he was deceived!

Then the poet sat and talked with us for a while. I said to him, "We did not allow our friend to go to jail, Sir. There were one or two papers of a damaging kind, which we destroyed in good time. But, this is only the beginning! Your poem will be justified in the end." Manmohan, Sri Aurobindo's brother, laughed, "Sir, this man, Charu, is always saying - we are out to kill, not to offer ourselves to the demon!"

In his now famous letters to his wife, Aurobindo made his relation with her perfectly clear. I did not know of these letters till they actually appeared in print. One day I had asked him in the

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course of conversation, "Chief, you knew that you were going to plunge into the vortex of revolutionary politics. Why did you marry ? Don't tell me if you don't want to." He thought for a moment and replied very slowly, "Well, Charu, it was like this. Just then I was very despondent and felt that I was destined to lead the life of a pedagogue. Why, then, should I not marry?" Aurobindo married, be it noted, in April 1901. And, in 1903, he initiated his Bhavani Mandir movement, and pushed it vigorously.

One afternoon, subsequent to Rabindranath's visit to Sri Aurobindo, [described above], Bhupal Babu, Aurobindo's father-in-law, came to see us in the Wellington Square house. The Chief had not as yet returned from his college. Bhupal Babu said to us, "Charu, Subodh, I have come to ask Aurobindo to come and dine with me this evening. My daughter, Mrinalini, has come to Calcutta to meet him, if possible. So I would like Aurobindo to stay the night in our house and return to you tomorrow morning. Do send him along." We were all tremendously excited over this invitation. When Aurobindo came home about 5 p.m., he could see that something out of the common had occurred. We gave out a loud yell on seeing him and all spoke together. He laughed and said, "One at a time, please." Then I said, "My dear fellow, this sort of gala occasion comes but once in a blue moon! Aurobindo is going to visit his spouse this evening."

Next time, friends, I'll read to you the correspondence I had with Him apropos of His marriage.

He said with a suppressed smile, "Yes! go on." It was Subodh's turn to speak. He said, "Bhupal Babu came to invite you. You are to dine with him this evening and spend the night in his house. It appears that Mrs. Ghose has come down to Calcutta expressly for the purpose of congratulating her lord on his acquittal." Aurobindo said merely, "I see."

That was very typical of Him.

Then my wife started, "There is nothing to see. Please get ready quickly and put on the clothes I have laid out for you. They have all been properly pleated and crinkled by Subodh's bearer." No reply from the other side; nothing but a shy twinkle in the eye. My wife, encouraged by the twinkle, went on, "And look here, Ghose Sahib, Subodh's wife and I are weaving two beautiful garlands of Jasmine -

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one for you and one for our Didi²³⁵. I shall instruct you about them, later on." The poor philosopher quietly capitulated. He had not a chance of speaking. After tea, he was hustled into the dressing room for being valeted by Subodh's bearer. He did not protest. After all, who was going to listen to him that evening, our great Chief though he was. When he came out, he looked gorgeous in his fine dress, but there was also a simple shy smile on his face. We had all been waiting to greet him. Lilavati stepped forward with the two garlands and said, "One of these you are going to put round Didi's neck and the other she is going to put round yours. Please don't forget." The Chief with a tender smile replied, "It shall be done, Lilavati." As he was getting into the carriage, Subodh called out, "And, please don't come back till tomorrow morning." Turning to the Durwan, he ordered, "Lock the gate at 10 p.m. Ghose Saheb is not coming back tonight."

Next morning, quite early, a servant came upstairs and said to Subodh, "Ghose Saheb wants to know, sir, if you are all coming down to tea." "Ghose Saheb? When did he come back?" "He returned about 11 p.m." We all trooped downstairs. There he sat in his armchair, quietly smiling to himself. We fired a volley of questions at him. He replied calmly, "Well, I had a superb dinner and returned here about 11 p.m. Lilavati, your instructions regarding the garlands were carried out to the letter." Lilavati asked plaintively, "But why did you come away so soon?" The Chief's reply was, "I explained things to her and she allowed me to come away." I suppose these explanations were, later on, embodied in the famous letters.

There are people who often ask, what happened to Mrinalini, spiritually. I shall quote but one sentence from Sri Aurobindo's letter to me dated 5-12-1944:

"I did not take my wife for initiation to Sri Saradeshwari Devi; I was given to understand that she was taken there by Sudhira Bose, Debabrata's sister. I heard of it a considerable time afterwards in Pondicherry. I was glad to know that she had found so great a spiritual refuge, but I had no hand in bringing it about."

So now you see why I said you'd be amply rewarded!

235 Elder sister.

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