The Mother and Sri Aurobindo want us to transform all the impurities of our lower nature and raise them to conscious Truth. To transform human life into God-life, into divine life. We cannot give it up and become indifferent. We have to get down into this life and purify it. Like descending into hell and converting it into heaven. The Mother said that Sri Aurobindo was of the line of Shiva. Shiva is the Lord of transformation. Sri Aurobindo's yoga too is in that line.
*
Someone asked: 'Dada, it has been said that Sri Aurobindo used to appreciate your physical build and grace very much.'
This reference to his being praised made Dada a little hesitant. But seeing our eager expectation he finally spoke though reluctantly: Yes, that's true. One day the Mother took me to Sri Aurobindo. The following day She told me: 'Sri Aurobindo was very enthused seeing your bodily build and grace. Sri Aurobindo was not very pleased with his own build. He would praise Sri Krishna's body very much. And now he has appreciated your body very much.'
Dada, why don't you write down exactly what the Mother told you,' we all requested him.
So Dada wrote down what the Mother had told him:
Sri Aurobindo was enthusiastic about your body. He never liked his body. He was always praising Sri Krishna's body. He liked your body very much.
Someone asked Dada: 'The World Cup cricket games are on, Dada. They are being shown on television. Do you watch television?'
"No," Dada replied.
'Even those matches where India is playing?'
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"No," Dada said again.
'But if India were to win the World Cup, wouldn't you be happy?'
"Look, from the age of seven I've been involved with exercise and sports. Today I am 76. During my whole life I've been continuing my work with sports and exercise. And even today I do regular exercises. For me sports and exercise are valua ble in so far as they are useful in our ideal of physical transformation and integral yoga. I cannot see the difference between spectators in a match and the brokers in a stock exchange getting all jumpy and excited.
"In truth, all these different activities in man's life, literature, sculpture, handicraft, engineering, if they do not help in the Integral Yoga then all these are meaningless and futile labour."
Someone asked: 'Have you looked upon exercise and sport like this way right since your childhood?'
"Now, when I think back, I understand that, although unconsciously, but right from my childhood I have been walking along this path. As soon as I grew up and my consciousness developed I've been walking on this path consciously."
"In the Ashram, does everyone look upon physical education on in this way?'
"I don't think so, really. The more I observe things, the more I feel that the essential truth of physical education hasn't been understood by many people. Few have understood about the truth of physical education and are using it in their life in that way."
Dada was sitting in his office. In conversation Rani-di mentioned that a long time ago Navajata had offered to stay with the Mother all the time and help Her with all Her work, as Dada used to.
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The Mother heard him and said: 'Yes, you can do that but I have a condition. Will you be able to fulfil that condition?'
'What is that condition, Mother?' Navajata asked.
The Mother replied: 'No wrong thought should enter your consciousness.'
On hearing the condition Navajata did not insist any more. It isn't easy at all, this condition of the Mother. Not to let the slightest hint of a wrong thought enter the consciousness. Even for a second. Your mind should always remain full of faith, love and surrender like a flawless diamond. Like the immobile, clear morning sky.
That is why Navajata used to say: 'I respect Pranab for that reason, but I also envy him.'
Whenever Dada speaks about the Mother his face and eyes light up with a divine glow. He is immersed in the Mother then.
Dada smiled sweetly and said: I remember two interesting arguments with the Mother. One day I was telling Her a story. During the First World War a German submarine named Emden used to ply in the Indian Ocean. And whenever it got an opportunity to sink a British ship it would do so. Once it seems to have entered the Hooghly near Calcutta. Sometime later a few British ships got together and managed to destroy the Emden.
The Mother knew about this. She said: 'It wasn't a submarine but a U-boat.'
I said: "No, Mother, it wasn't a U-boat, it was a submarine."
The Mother insisted it was a U-boat and I was not ready to accept .
The following morning when I went to the Mother, She had collected some books and documents. Showing me these
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She said: 'Here, Pranab, look for yourself. The Emden was a U-boat made by the Germans.'
I accepted Her word and agreed I was wrong.
Then I came to know that the British used to often call German-made U-boats submarines. The Mother was right but then I was not totally wrong either.
The Mother loved Japan very much. The love of beauty, uprightness, cleanliness were qualities that She admired. The Mother would say Japanese girls were pretty while Indian girls were beautiful. Their nature was more inclined towards Saraswati, towards beauty, sweetness, gentleness, perfection. But I wanted them to have the energy of the Force of Kali too, her strength and keenness. Indian girls' legs are not very beautiful. As the lower limbs are covered they don't pay much attention to them or care for them. When I asked the girls in 'group' (that is in sports) to wear shorts, one reason for this was to make them conscious of their lower limbs.
The Mother once said while chatting that before the World War Japan had never lost to the British or the Americans.
I said: "No, Mother, I've read in history that at one time in the field of economics and social production Japan became very weak. They had no commercial links with any country abroad. Except for some Dutch and Chinese traders nobody else had entered the Japanese market. The Western countries, the Netherlands, America and Russia in particular, were applying a lot of pressure on Japan with their military and economic might. At that time Tokugowa was ruling Japan. The American commodore Mathew C. Parry came with a naval squadron and threatened Japan. He threatened he would return the following year and attack. Being helpless the Tokugowa government opened their markets to American business and in 1854 it signed a peace treaty. They had agreed to signing this peace treaty out of fear that like China Japan too would otherwise become some sort of a Russian or American colony. .
I told the Mother all this but She just would not accept. She was a great admirer of Japan, you see.
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The next day I took some books from our Ashram historian Sisir-da to show the Mother. She would not look at the books saying what was written in the books was all nonsense.
She had so much love for Japan that even when I was right had to lose before the Mother. And saying this he began laughing gently, lovingly thinking of the Mother's words.
Talking about this I remember, Dada continued, the Mother once received from Japan a gift-packet. Beautifully packed in all kinds of coloured paper. It was truly exquisite.
On opening the packet it was found to contain a beautiful wooden box. There were many little niches in it. And in each niche there were different-coloured sweets like tiny grain. Rice powder coloured with a little bit of sugar. Some niche had square-shaped grains, some had round ones, some triangular. And on one side in a niche a little bit of puffed rice.
Seeing so little puffed rice I remarked to the Mother: "Is that all the puffed rice? Back home we used to eat tonnes of puffed rice!"
'So much puffed rice? Didn't you get sick?' the Mother asked me with the wonder of a child.
The Mother told me that in Japan when cherry-blossoms bloom then farmers and peasants sit beside their fields and holding one of these boxes keep popping these little sweets into their mouth one by one while admiring these flowers and exclaiming from time to time 'How wonderful' or 'How beautiful'! The Japanese are very fond of cherry-blossoms.
In Her Prayers and Meditations the Mother mentions these cherry-blossoms. She says:
' O Japan, it is thy festive adorning, expression of thy good-will, it is thy purest offering, the pledge of thy fidelity; it is thy way of saying that thou dost mirror the sky.'
However the Mother used to say: 'The Japanese are extremely sensitive to beauty but their consciousness is of a mental level.
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Cherry blossoms painted by the Mother
The main Ashram building in 1950 (as seen from the Ashram Post office terrace)
Dada told us one day:
A couple of sannyasis from the Ramakrishna Mission used to come to our Berhampur-house in my childhood. They would stay for a few days. One of them was Tapanand Maharaj. He had had all kinds of experiences in his life. In the earlier part of his life he even practised Tantra-sadhana. He had his own ashram in the Himalayas. He liked me very much and wanted me to go with him and look after the boys of his ashram. 'I will teach you the 'Dhanda' mantra (a mantra for wealth). If you utter that mantra you will never lack any money. However, you won't be able to use that money for yourself. If you use that money on yourself then the mantra will cease to be effective. The money has to be used for others. For God. You won't have to worry about money at all.'
I told him that another place had already been assigned for me. I had at that time already resolved to come away to the Sri Aurobindo Ashram.
I told him another thing. I was eighteen-nineteen then. I said: 'I don't understand the 'dhanda' mantra. But I strongly believe that if man is pure then he does not need anything else.. That purity will bring him success in everything.'
On hearing my words he said: 'You've uttered a deep truth there, my dear.'
An elderly sadhak comes quite often to Dada and tells him some spiritual anecdote or the other. The other day he came and recounted two stories.
'A sufi fakir would always be absorbed in the contemplation of Allah. And tears would flow uninterrupted from his eyes. He did not speak except to utter the name of Allah.
A fakir from Mecca came to see him. He told him: 'Do you think by remembering Allah with your tears you will find Allah?'
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'Then how else can one find Allah?' he asked him.
'You must do at least some work for Him. It is through work that you should call Him. Then Allah will reveal Himself to you,' the fakir replied.
'Fine, then tell me what work should I do?'
'Come with me to Mecca. I will tell you.'
'I won't go anywhere, the sufi replied, I will stay here. I will call him with my tears. And as he has sent you to me one day. He Himself will come to me. He will Himself come and tell me how to find Him.
The fakir could not say anything after that.'
The old sadhak recounted then another story.
'There was a great disciple of the Jain Tirthankar Vardhaman. He lived in a cave all by himself.
One day a lot of people came and told him: 'The Tirthankar himself is coming to see you. Please come outside your cave and wait.' '
But he did not come out of his cave. 'If the Guru has come this far then surely he can come inside the cave too.'
Dada recounted one day: The Mother used to serve me a glass of coconut water every day. And I would drink it standing.
'Why are you drinking it standing? "Why don't you sit down quietly and drink it slowly?'
"I am in a hurry, Mother. And then where is the place to sit here?"
'When I was young, the Mother continued, my governess would always ask me to sit down and drink water. If you drink water standing then the water goes directly from the mouth to the lower part of the body.'
And then like a naughty girl She looked at Dada and asked 'So, it isn't going down, is it?'
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In the beginning, Dada told us, the Mother did not know how to wear a sari. Sri Aurobindo's sister Sarojini first taught Her how to wear one. At first the Mother had only two saris. She would use them for daily wear. One would be washed and the other worn. But within the house She would wear a gown.
For the Playground and to play tennis after 1950 the Mother would wear a salwar-kameez. For the darshans She used to wear a sari.
The Mother liked a particular perfume very much. It smelt of grass. When She was in France She once went out to the countryside for a walk. She enjoyed the smell of green fields and fresh grass. Later She received a perfume which smelt exactly like that grass. And from then on She just loved that perfume. It was called Fougère.
Dada was talking to us about the Mother. She enjoyed looking at very attractive photographs. And She would collect these.
In those days The Illustrated Weekly used to carry a serial feature on Phantom. They were pictures of the mediaeval heroism, bravery and chivalry. The Mother would look at them with great interest. The serial had been going on year after year and the Mother would not miss a single one.
Some people used to photograph the Mother on certain occasions and show the photos to Her. She once instructed me: 'Pranab, don't show or give all my photos to everyone.'
The Mother divided Her photos in three groups:
One, those that could be given or shown to everyone.
Two, those that could be shown but not given.
Three, those that could neither be shown nor given to anybody. The Mother was very strict about this.
Towards the end She told me: 'Even if you see my signature below anything written or typed by someone about some
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instruction or order, you are not to follow it. You must show me first and check it out with me. Only then must you obey it. because often I sign without seeing.' Dada was very conscious and vigilant in this regard.
Someone asked : 'Dada, you always ate with the Mother. he used to sit and feed you Herself. I've heard that the glass you drank water from. She would hold it for you. Some people in the Ashram used to say all sorts of things because of this. They didn't like this. How can the Divine Mother Herself hold a glass of water that Pranab had touched with his mouth?!
They did not understand the relationship of deep love and affection the Mother had with you. They just suffered from jealousy. Tell us Dada, did the Mother enjoy eating? Or didn't She?'
Dada laughed : "After I finished eating the Mother would herself wash my plate. That's why Dyuman asked Her one day : 'Mother doesn't this cause you some inconvenience?'"
The Mother replied: 'No, it doesn't cause me any inconvenience.'
Then Dyuman-bhai said: 'If you have no objection then let me wash Pranab's plate.'
So the Mother agreed to Dyuman-bhai's request and he started cleaning my plate.
Someone asked: 'But didn't you feel uncomfortable that the Mother would clean your plate?'
Dada said: "I didn't even know that She was doing all this. It is from Dyuman-bhai much later that I got to know about;
You would like to know about the Mother's likes and dislikes in food? The Mother didn't like the smell of mango, guava and jack-fruit. Especially the smell of jack-fruit She just could not bear. Her disciples would send Her select mangoes,
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guavas, jack-fruit. She would give them all to me. 'You eat and tell me how they are.' And then She would accordingly inform the disciples.
However, if you gave Her a couple of steaming hot luchis she would eat them. 'They are good when they are steaming hot direct from the pan'. She would say. She didn't like luchis that were cold and shapeless.
She enjoyed caviar and foie gras too. It is an expensive delicacy. There is a saying that you have eaten brown bread no doubt but caviar and foie gras as well.
What's that, Dada?'
Caviar is the eggs of a certain fish. This fish is found in the Caspian Sea. The eggs of this fish are processed in a particular way. They look like black pepper seeds. It is the food of kings and nobles. In those days half a pound would cost eighty ninety thousand rupees! If you made a couple of items with it would cost you one and a half to two lakhs! Many disciples would send caviar for the Mother. She would eat Herself and serve it to me as well.
'How does caviar taste, Dada?'
"Oh, it isn't all that wonderful, Dada said with a laugh. I prefer the eggs of the hilsa."
'What is foie gras, Dada?'
It is made with the liver of goose and a special kind of mushroom found under the earth and called truffle. The pigs who dig these mushrooms out have their snouts tied. These pigs can find truffles out by sniffing the ground and digging them out. That's why they are called truffle dog-pigs. So this mushroom cooked with goose-liver is what is called foie gras. It is a rich man's food and very, very expensive.
'But how does it taste, Dada?'
"Oh, It is okay, nothing special really," Dada answered in very detached way.
It was clear from Dada's voice that this too was not an extraordinary delicacy.
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I once told Mother: "Mother, I finished my college studies and came away. I have not travelled anywhere nor do I have any experience of the outside world." I said that casually and fact I completely forgot about it later.
Suddenly one day Navajata called me and said: The Mother wants you to go and see the Olympic Games. She has asked to make all the arrangements for you.'
The 1964 Olympics were on in Mexico.
"But Mother hasn't told me anything," I answered. I knew that my going out would cause a lot of inconvenience to the Mother. But I kept quiet.
Anjani Dayanand was then chief secretary of Pondicherry. She was a devotee of the Mother. She also came and told me that the Mother wanted me to go to the Olympics. She had asked her to look into the making of my passport.
Then I told her: "No, I don't want to go.
'But how can you disobey the Mother's directions?' she asked incredulously.
"Yes, I am Mother's disobedient, naughty child."
I didn't talk to the Mother about all this. What was very amusing was that She too did not talk about it.
After some time the matter was closed. I said to myself: Perhaps Mother was testing me in this way. To see how attracted I was by the outside world.'
A disciple had offered the Mother a new Humber car. As was new naturally there were a few initial problems. And when there were problems it took some time to repair. Slightly upset the Mother wittily remarked one day: 'They should have called it not Humber but Humbug!'
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The school holidays have come and the students are leaving to go and see their parents or relatives. They come to see Dada one after another to tell him they are going. Dada looks at each one with his gentle but penetrating eyes and wishes them a safe, happy journey. There is a clear note of sadness in his voice. It is evident that he is not happy at their leaving. But he does not say anything or try to stop them.
A young boy came and told him: 'Dada, I am going to Calcutta.'
"When are you leaving?"
'Tomorrow but I really don't feel like going.'
Dada's voice became firm as he asked: "Then why are you going? Who has asked you to go?"
'No, Dada, there is some urgent work.'
Dada became more serious and a little angrily he said:
"Urgent? What's so urgent as that? Is there anything more urgent than spirituality? All this talk is nonsense. Can there be anything more important than your stay in the Ashram? Father, mother, relatives, all these don't mean a thing. Look at me, I've been in the Ashram for the last fifty-three years. Once I came I've never gone back. Look at Gangaram. He too hasn't gone back. All that is simply a pretext. You are all here to enjoy the comforts of staying in the Ashram. Don't come and tell me all this."
'No, Dada, let me go this time. I will never go out again, I promise.'
Dada did not stop there. "As long as there is attachment, nothing can be achieved. You must cut off all bonds at one stroke. We have neither father, nor mother, nor anybody. We have only the Divine Mother. Tvamek Bhavani.
Na tatah na matah
Na jaya na vidya
Na putra na putri
Gatistang, gatistang
Tvamek Bhavani.
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And Dada's voice rang with deep feeling.
Ashwiini looks after Dada's two motorbikes. Dada asked him smiling:
"Everything's okay?"
Yes, Dada, everything's fine.'
"This Ashwini is my motorbike-guru!" Dada continued laughing.
Everyone laughed.
How is your back-pain now?" Dada enquired.
'The pain is still very much there, Dada. I am taking some medicine but it has made no difference.'
Just turn around. I'll cure your back-pain with two blows."
No, Dada, please, .Ashwini pleaded like a frightened child.
"When back-pain doesn't go with medicines then two blows on the neck can cure it. Dr Sanyal cured someone's back-pain like that. His back-pain just wouldn't leave him. So Dr Sanyal made him lie on the ground face down and gave him a couple of blows on his neck. He howled with pain but then after this his back-pain disappeared."
Ashwini on hearing this slowly turned around like a frightened little boy.
Sailesh-da told us about an amusing incident. A gentleman had a white Ambassador car. It was always parked in front of the house. Every Sunday morning he would clean it himself with water. One Sunday morning he spent a long time to clean car. After some time he discovered that the car had disappeared 'It must have been stolen,' he thought. He informed police at the station. He spent the whole day running around for the stolen car. The following morning he had no
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other option but to take the bus to work. He returned home in the evening. Suddenly he noticed his white Ambassador parked quite a distance away from his house. Then suddenly he remembered that that is where he had parked the car on Saturday. Someone else had parked his car in front of his house. Mistaking this car to be his own he had washed and cleaned it thoroughly. Then the owner of the car must have driven it way. And all this time he kept thinking the car had been stolen. Then when the police arrived he could not but hide his own folly and tell them that the car had been found.
After hearing this Chandranath said: 'I too know of a similar story. A gentleman went to see a film for the late night- show. After the show on coming back to his car he discovered that one of the wheels was flat. Good God! What could he do so late at night with a punctured wheel? With no other option he opened the boot of the car and took out the stepney and the tools. He lay under the car to remove the wheel. After about an hour of sweat and toil when he had finished fixing the wheel he sat down in the car to go. Just then a lady approached him and thanked him profusely: 'I have no words to thank you enough. What a disaster it would have been had you not come along to help me out!'
'But this is my car! Why are you thanking me for fixing my own car?' the man asked perplexed.
'Excuse-me, sir, but this car is mine. I think yours must be the one behind,'
The gentleman suddenly remembered that it was true. He had been slaving away for somebody else's car all this time! And the lady had been graciously waiting on the side without saying a word!'
Dada said: So now listen to my story. A football-match was on. The galleries were full of spectators. It was an exciting game. Suddenly the ball came into the goal-area. A goal would be scored any moment now. One of the spectators in tense excitement began scratching his knee. It wasn't his knee but the neighbour's!
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'What do you think you are doing?' the gentleman asked very irritated.
The other spectator realised his mistake, 'Oh, it is your knee? That's why I kept wondering why I wasn't getting any relief even after scratching so much!'
Everyone rolled with laughter on hearing Dada's story.
We were talking about the cases of dropsy in various places in India due to the consumption of mustard oil. In Delhi sale of mustard oil has become illegal. In Pondicherry too its sale has been banned.
Dada said: In 1940 there was a similar incidence of dropsy in Berhampur. At the time it was called beri-beri. Many people were dying of it. I remember on the roads of Berhampur some one going round eating the drum and announcing that mustard oil from Bharat Mills was safe.
A boy of our age caught beri-beri, his name was Sadhu. Thanks to some treatment Sadhu was cured of beri-beri. An. attack of beri-beri weakens your heart however. Sadhu was very good at football. The Wheeler Shield matches were going on then and Sadhu was playing. In this game he dribbled past all the rival players and kicked the ball towards the goal 'Goal!' 'Goal!' everyone screamed. But Sadhu collapsed just after kicking the ball. He never got up again. He died of heart failure.
After cremating him one of his friends lost his balance I little bit. He kept telling himself: 'Sadhu is calling me. Sadhu is calling me.' This boy died the next day. He was very good at cricket.
Someone asked: 'Dada, when death is sudden or caused by an accident, does the soul that leaves call out for the loved ones like this?'
Dada replied: After Amulya passed away in the Ashram he would call out for Madan-da. He would beckon him with
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outstretched hands: 'Come away, come away. A little more, just a little bit more. Then you will be able to come away to me.' Madan-da would look like someone hypnotised then. But he kept calling the Mother's name even then. And that is how the departed soul's spell on Madan-da was dissolved.
On hearing this Gopal said: 'Dada, in my home-town, a person known to me decided to end his life by hanging himself because of some personal frustration. He decided that he would die with a rope round his neck. 'I will make my own rope to hang myself,' he said.
'And so he made a strong sturdy rope. His relatives out of fear for his life stole that rope and hid it away. He would then wander like a madman looking for his rope repeating: 'Where's my rope? Where is it?'
'One evening the evil spirit told him: 'You are looking for your rope? Look there at the pot hanging from the ceiling. your rope is hidden inside. Climb up and see, you'll find your rope.'
'And he found the rope exactly as he had been told. And that very evening he hanged himself from a guava tree in the garden.'
Another person said:
'I know of an incident with an aunt of mine. A husband and wife had a nasty quarrel one day. The wife, that is my aunt, decided to end her life. But after some time this desire to commit suicide vanished. She told me this herself.
'When in the evening my aunt used to cook in the kitchen, through the window looking out into the garden she would see a black man holding a rope in his hand and beckoning my aunt into the darkness. He would say: 'What happened? You wanted to hang yourself? Come on, then. It is totally painless. Just come. Look, this is how you should do it.' And even while he was saying all this, this ghost-like black man continued calling her again and again. Finally after a few days this dark figure stopped coming at the window. My aunt too stopped cooking in the kitchen alone.'
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These are all mental formations, Dada explained. They are born out of strong suggestions. I've heard of an incident about a revolutionary who had hidden himself in an uninhabited house all alone. All the doors and windows of the house were kept locked except for one looking out into the back-garden. So this revolutionary in hiding, what would he do? He would sit and look out of the window at the garden to pass his time.
One evening he suddenly noticed a woman covered with gold-jewellery come under a mango-tree with a piece of rope in her hand. She slung the rope over a branch and began thinking of what to do next. Perhaps she had a little hesitation or fear. The gardener who worked in this garden saw this. Seeing all the gold-jewellery he turned greedy. He came forward and told her how to tie the rope around her neck. 'Hold on, let me show you.'
The revolutionary was watching all this. But he was helpless, he couldn't do anything. If he shouted out then he himself might get caught.
The gardener tied the noose. Then he found some bricks to prepare the platform. He now climbed on to it, put his head into the noose and said: 'This is how you must go about it.' Just then his foot slipped and he found himself hanging with his neck in the noose. The bricks from under his feet crumbled. The hanging man was fidgeting restlessly when the woman seized by a terrible fear took to her heels.
The revolutionary saw everything from his window. After some time the man stopped moving as he hung silently from the tree.
Dada looks very happy this morning. He is telling us a lot of very amusing stories. Like Birbal in Akbar's court, in Bengal King Krishnachandra had his Gopal Bhand. And in South India there was Nasiruddin. All these three characters were very witty. There are so many amusing stories about them.
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Once Emperor Akbar wanted to fool Birbal and so he asked him: 'Tell me Birbal, what is the difference between you and a donkey?'
Hesitatingly Birbal replied: 'Your Majesty, the difference between a donkey and I is very little. A question of five hands. I am just five hands away from the throne!'
Akbar was impressed by Birbal's quick-witted reply.
There are a lot of stories about Gopal Bhand too. Let me tell you one.
Once a nawab sent an emissary to Krishnachandra to ask him: 'The Hindus have so many gods and goddesses, we know. But can you show them to me? I would love to see what they are like, your gods and goddesses.'
Krishnachandra was in a real quandary. He could not offend him either. So he called Gopal Bhand and asked him:
'Gopal, can you help me?'
'Very easy. Your Highness, don't you worry.'
So one day in the guise of a Brahmin Gopal Bhand turned up at the nawab's house: 'Nawab-bahadur, I can show you the gods and goddesses of the Hindus.'
'Fine, show me then.'
'But, lord, there was something I wanted to tell you.'
'What's that?'
'My lord, I can show them to you only when you are alone. No one else should be present. I don't need to worry about you since you are a pure-born. A true Muslim. You can see our gods and goddesses. But I am worried about those whose father is not known, you know, the bastards, these will not be able to see our gods and goddesses. If such people are present in your assembly then there is a serious problem. That is why I was saying that instead of bringing in others let me show them to you all alone. Who can say if there is a bastard present in the assembly?'
The nawab agreed.
Now Gopal Bhand looked at the empty sky and pointing up started saying:
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'Look there, my Lord! Mother Kali dancing in the sky! Can you see?'
The nawab was in a fix. What could he do? Not wishing to be considered a bastard he exclaimed: 'Yes, yes, of course I can!'
'And look there! My Lord, Lakshmi, Saraswati and Durga, They are all crossing the sky one after the other!'
'Yes, yes, I can see clearly!' the nawab nodded vigourously.
Dada later said: Now let me tell you one of Nasiruddin. The nawab of Persia loved Nasiruddin very much. After all he was a poet, philosopher and a very intelligent wit. Qualities that he respected in Nasiruddin.
One day the nawab said: 'Nasiruddin, I'll go to your house tomorrow morning.'
On arriving at Nasiruddin's house the next morning the nawab discovered Nasiruddin was not there. His door was locked from outside.
Very upset, the nawab wrote 'ass' in big letters on his door to rebuke him and left.
Nasiruddin on his return found out what had happened and rushed to the nawab's court and said: 'My deepest apologies for this negligence on my part. Please forgive me for not being home. The nawab-bahadur came to a poor man's house and had to go back disappointed.'
'But Nasiruddin, how did you find out that I had gone to your house?' the nawab asked.
'Why, what was so difficult in that? Didn't you leave your signature on my door in big letters? That's how I came to know!'
Dada told us another amusing story.
At one point the condition of the educated unemployed became quite serious. Of course it is still there today but it
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isn't as terrible. And so in those days a young man who had passed his M.A. was jobless. Nowhere was he able to get a job although he went about frantically looking for one. One day he heard that there was a vacancy in the zoo. He went to check. There he was told that indeed there was a vacancy. He could take the job if he wished. The job was a little strange but if he agreed he could be employed. He would have to start in the morning with the opening of the zoo and work till it closed. His monthly salary would be five rupees.
He accepted the conditions but wanted to know what the job was.
It was explained to him. A bear had died in one of the cages of the zoo. He had to wear the bearskin and play the bear inside the cage. A railing that prevented people from coming closer surrounded the cage. And so he had nothing to worry about. People would not know that he was a fake bear.
The young man had no choice. He needed a job whatever it might be. So he agreed.
The following day he was dressed in a bearskin and put inside the cage. There was a tiger in the neighbouring cage. An iron door separated the two cages and it was always closed. On this side was the bear's cage and on the other the tiger's.
Dressed as a bear he would drowsily lie in the cage. From time to time he would saunter about in the cage like a bear.
It was afternoon and he was lying inside. He probably fell asleep for a while. Suddenly he remembered. He noticed in panic that the door separating the two cages was open! Probably the man had forgotten to lock it.
All of a sudden he saw that the tiger was advancing towards him. There were no spectators then. Stiff like a rod out of sheer panic he kept retreating. Good God! Has the tiger been able to smell a human and was therefore advancing towards him? The more the tiger advanced, the further he retreated. His back was now touching the end of the cage but the tiger kept advancing. At one point he felt the tiger's large head next to his neck. He thought he was dead.
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Suddenly the tiger's mouth went close to his ear and heard: 'How much are they paying you?'
The young man understood then that the tiger, like him was also a fake!
Dada was laughing as he recounted this story.
The telegraph system had just been installed in the country It arrived in a village post-office. There was great excitement among the villagers. 'The Englishmen have made a strange contraption. By making some staccato sounds inside it they can convey a piece of news. Within a second this news travels very far distances. It is quite expensive, no doubt, but it doesn't matter.'
After all it was a village post-office and so the postmaster was not well educated and did not know much English either The work was somehow done with people who knew a smattering of English.
The village postmaster was addressed as 'Mastar-babu' and was very respected. 'Mastar-babu' also wished to impress them with his English. He was not made postmaster for nothing after all!
There was an Army camp not very far from the village. ' Now a telegram arrived for this camp: 'Sending one thousand gander.'
'You see, the postmaster exclaimed showing the telegram to his assistant, they don't know English. Sending a thousand gander. Fine, send them. But at least write the correct word for 'gander'!
'Sir, what's the English for 'gander'? the assistant asked respectfully.
'You don't know even that? The English for 'gander' is rhino. So go and give them the news: 'Sending one thousand rhinos'. Knowledge of English is very important, Haripada,
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very important. Do you think the British government made me postmaster just like that? You can become a postmaster only if you know a lot of English.'
'That's very right and true, sir.'
Over at the Army camp there was utter confusion. They had asked for a thousand ganders and they were getting a thousand rhinos! (The Bengali word for rhino is 'gondar')
One day a poor man came to the postmaster in this post- office with a potful of rosogullas and said: 'Mastar-babu my brother lives in the town. I've brought a pot full of rosogullas for him. I would like to send it very quickly. Mastar-babu, kindly send this pot of rosogullas to my brother by telegram! I will pay whatever it takes. Mastar-babu, the pot will reach very quickly, won't it?'
The Mastar-babu was very clever. 'Yes, yes, don't worry. He will get this pot of rosogullas this very afternoon. You go back home and don't worry.'
The man went back home happily.
The Mastar-babu immediately despatched the pot of rosogullas to his quarters nearby. His wife and children were thrilled to receive the rosogullas.
The Mastar-babu's wife asked him when he got back home:
Tell me, who told you to spend so much money to buy a pot of rosogullas'?'
Mastar-babu became a little serious: 'No, my dear, why should I buy? This was an extra income. Such an important job, some extra income is natural.'
'What is extra income?' the wife asked a little surprised.
'You won't understand that,' and saying this he shut her up.
After about two weeks that poor man from the village turned up. He said: 'Mastar-babu, the other day I sent by telegram a pot of rosogullas for my brother. He has just written to tell me that he never received the rosogullas.'
Mastar-babu said at once: 'Ah, yes! I forgot to tell you. I did send the pot of rosogullas by telegram. The pot was
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whizzing along the telegraph wire when suddenly it was noticed that another pot of rosogullas was coming from the opposite direction. The two pots crashed and broke into bits. That is why your brother did not receive that pot of rosogullas. But I did send it as promised by telegram. What can I do? Your luck is bad.'
Dada used to give the commands for the gymnastic marching in the Playground in French, but if he had to say something to the children he would do it in Hindi. The Hindi he used was quite unique. So one day Dada told us all about it.
Next to the Playground some young children were playing in their courtyard while the gymnastic marching was going on. Dada was giving the commands in French over the micro phone. A little boy meanwhile started some mischief in the children's courtyard. Dada didn't know his name. He scolded him over the mike: Ei Benarshilalka nati, dushtumi mat karo. Eisha dushtumi karega to courtyard sey nikal dega! (You Benarshilalji's grandson! Don't do any mischief otherwise you will be expelled from the courtyard!)
The next day the old Benarshilaiji came to Dada and very gently told him: 'Kal mera nati dushtumi kiya. Ham to kuchh bhi nahi kiya. Mera to koi kasur nahi tha. Aap Dada, itna aadmi ka samney Playground mey mera naam dhor key daka, aap bola, ei Benarshilalka nati! Dada mera sir jhuk gaya!' (Yesterday my grandson did some mischief. But I didn't do anything. I was not to blame. In front of all those people, Dada, you called my name out, you said: You Benarshilalji's grandson! Dada, my head was bowed in shame!)
The old man started laughing. Dada too was laughing with him.
After the children's march-past the Mother was distributing groundnuts. Dada was asking the children in Hindi to be
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careful with the groundnuts: Ei chhotolok sob, badam mey pipilika hai. Dekh key dekh key khao. (You little ones, there are ants in the groundnuts, watch and eat.)
Another boy was doing some mischief. At once Dada's voice rang in Hindi: Ei chhota lok, dushtumi karta hai kanhey? Eisha karega to mar key mar key hannd, god choorna bichoorna kar deyga! (You little fellow! Why are you always doing mischief? If you continue I will thrash you, I will grind your body and bones to powder!)
God knows if that boy managed to understand Dada's very original Hindi.
Dada's father Dakshinapada-da made some mistake during the gymnastic marching. Dada was at the mike giving the commands. At the Playground on the command-stand there is no father or son. Dada announced on the mike:
"Dakshinapada, You are not doing correctly."
Dakshinapada-da, a little embarrassed, quickly corrected his mistake while marching.
After this incident Motakaka alerted Bina-kakima: 'See that during the gymnastic marching you don't make any mistakes. Otherwise Pranab will call you Binapani before everybody.'
Dada once told someone over the mike: Chandradeep, tomar pa nahi milta. The next day he came and told Dada: 'Dada, you said 'amar pa nahi milta' but nahi milta means it can't be found. But I had both my feet. I was standing on both my feet.' Probably Dada meant that his stepping was not in rhythm.
Dada and Chandradeep both had a good laugh.
After this Chandradeep used to correct my Hindi from time to time. Of course it hasn't made much difference!
We were talking about old age and death. Are old age and death in human life inevitable? Will they continue forever?
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Dada remarked: How can I say that? Then the ideal of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo and Their sadhana will remain incomplete! What man has eternally dreamt, yearned for, thought of, has one day become true. This has been true from age to age. As Death has existed forever so has the desire in human mind and heart to overcome and conquer it and gain immortality. This inner yearning in man, this dream itself is proof that one day man will conquer old age and death. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother's sadhana will one day bring its realisation. On this subject I wrote an article called In Pursuit of Immortality for the eighth year's commemorative volume of the Sri Aurobindo Medical Association in Cuttack. Here is the piece for your reading:
"Since time immemorial man has tried to conquer death. We read in the Puranas that the rishis and even the asuras were doing great tapasya to become immortal. In medieval Europe kings kept alchemists to find out the process by which man could prolong his youth and life, as well as other things like discovering formulae to make gold! The kings wanted to enjoy life to the fullest; so life had to be prolonged, youth had to be maintained and there had to be plenty of money. To pursue these objectives they employed alchemists. Many stories have been written where the author has built up his narration around the subject of immortality.
A similar motive has pushed man to go in for medical pursuits, including a hygienic way of life. The effort for overcoming sickness, disease and death through medical science is going on all over the world. Many eminent scientists are engaged in untravelling this mystery.
At our end, we have put ourselves in the hands of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo to help us in every sphere of life and to solve by their direct intervention all our material problems, including disease, old age and death.
We have learnt from them that there is a process by which we can reach our objective or at least make an effort to tackle this problem. They have told us that first of all we must
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discover our psychic being and around it we shall organise the rest of our being, that is, mind, life and body. If the mate- rial part of our life subjects itself to the leadership of the psy- chic, the psychic being will help us to reach our objective by conquering sickness, old age and death.
The soul is immortal. So why should it not guide the other parts of our being to achieve immortality?"
I believe that whatever man can think of he can become. We see this everywhere. Over the years, we see that man has managed to create at the practical level what he has dreamed or imagined. So if he is in pursuit of it, one day man's dream of conquering death will come true.
Dada seems a little distant today. As if he is deeply absorbed in some thought. But he is continuing to do his office work, talking to people, giving instructions on various matters. But you can feel that he is absorbed within in some deep thought.
At one time he himself admitted that he thought about one particular subject very often. I have even tried to capture this in poetry. I think about this Ashram of ours where so many people have come attracted by Sri Aurobindo and the Mother's yoga-sadhana. Some have become old, some are no more, some have lost their head. Some after staying here for some time have left. Some have got married and settled down to a worldly life. About these we normally say that they have deviated from the path of yoga, that they are failures.
However I feel this is not the right way of looking at things. This sadhana is a war. That is why we talk about the battles in sadhana. Those who are drawn to the path of sadhana
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are inevitably attracted by an inner pull of the soul. They are different from the ordinary, average persons. They are exceptional. Nobody can come to the path of sadhana without hearing the call of God. They are all like soldiers in a war. Some retreat, some advance, but all of them according to their capacity and rank take up a position in this necessary battle. If some of them get injured in this battle, or some fall or die, does that mean they were worthless, unsuccessful? They, in fact, blaze the way for those who are following behind. With their self-dedication, or whatever little fruit they have got from sadhana they advance the course of the collective sadhana. Everyone contributes in some way. Some more, some perhaps less. It is not right to despise or belittle anybody. In the victory over Lanka you cannot play down the contribution even of an ordinary squirrel. We all do whatever we are capable of to advance on the path of yoga.
I also think that in each epoch everybody, people, yogis and sadhaks and all their unsuccessful attempts and deviations only go to facilitate the sadhana of those who will follow. They make the realisation of future generations easier. This is why we see that sometimes on some front of the sadhana we might win a very quick victory whereas some very simple obstacle we are unable to overcome. Often a very difficult thing is achieved with great ease and for achieving a very simple result we have to labour very hard. Who can say how much of what we have won is the contribution of those who preceded us in the sadhana, those who have risen and fallen so many times?
Someone remarked: 'In the Veda there was a rishi called Yajna. He has said: 'I saw in my mind's eye the glorious praise of all the sacrifices and sadhana of our predecessors. The sadhana of the Vedas was called 'sadhanpantha' by the rishis, 'purveshang pantha'—sadhana is walking on a path. This is why the rishis never claim any of their achievements or realisations as their own. They believe that our ancestors, since eternity, have created in the tradition of sadhana a structure
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for sadhana. We have to see that this tradition of meditation and sadhana is not broken—ma chhedi vayato dhiyam.
I feel the same way. With those who have accepted the Mother and Sri Aurobindo's sadhana, it is not important to judge who has achieved how much because all of them have contributed to help us become successful. This is why we bow before everybody.
Dada said further: I have read in the Gita that when Arjuna, overwhelmed and confused by Sri Krishna's explanation of the difficult moments of yoga, asked Him: 'He who takes to yoga with faith but then for lack of attentiveness, falls off the path, cannot he realise anything? He who could not achieve anything in this life or in spiritual life either, what will become of him? Having failed on both sides will he be dissolved by the wind like a little cloud?'
Sri Krishna answered Arjuna: 'One who has deviated from Yoga is destroyed neither in this world nor in the world beyond. That man who does good suffers no misfortune anywhere.'
Look at our Ashram itself. All those boys and girls who after their studies go out, none of them is bad in any way. They are all in a very good situation, with a good job and position. The people outside are quite astonished by their success and prosperity. Not one of them is in a bad condition. I would say that this is the result of all that the tradition of sadhana carries on the course of yoga. This is why our yoga is called collective yoga. And this is why all those who came before us, or are with us today or will come in the future, all their combined successes and failures, qualities and shortcomings have traced the path and will continue to do so. And we should always remain grateful to each one of them for our future victory as well. I bow before them all.
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