I Remember

I Remember

PART I

Translated from the Bengali by Kalyan Chaudhuri

Walking with Mother on the beach - 1952

Pranab with Mother - 5.7.51

(1)

Sometimes Mother used to recount amusing stories. She told me one from the time when she was in Paris, in charge of a spiritual group called 'Le cosmique'. One day, she heard of a savant, a man of knowledge, who had arrived and was going to reveal God's Word.

So, along with a few friends, Mother decided to go and hear him speak.

They went on the appointed day. They arrived a little late and saw that the room was already filled with solemn people who sat in silence. There was an air of expectancy.

The speaker was sitting on a dais even more solemn- faced and with his eyes closed. The congregation waited with bated breath to hear him speak.

Mother sat down quietly in a corner.

After a long meditation the savant opened his eyes. Everyone sat up.

"The soul is immortal," the speaker pronounced gravely. And well, there ended his discourse!

Mother laughed a lot while recounting this.

(2)

Let me tell you another amusing story of Mother's. Some people are habitual hoarders and show great reluctance to part with their old possessions, no matter how worn out and useless they may have become.

Mother had a relative who was like this. He would not discard any old thing.

This gentleman had an old moth-eaten overcoat and he was greatly worried about what he should do with it.

After pondering over the matter, he announced one day to his household: "Don't disturb me at all today, as I have hit upon a new idea for making this overcoat useful. I shall work on it in my room today. Leave my morning, midday and evening meals in front of the door of my

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room and please don't bother me in any way. I will leave my room only when the work is done."

Saying this he locked himself in his room and began to work on the coat.

Morning, midday and evening slid away but he did not open his door.

Everyone in the house was worried as to what he was doing in his room.

When evening had well set in, the door finally opened, and everyone ran to see what had taken him so long. They were stunned to see that he had cut the overcoat into small bits measuring 1 to 1.5 inches and tied them up in small bundles. He walked out of his room, those bundles in hand, proudly sweating as if he had returned victorious from a battle.

The family asked: "What do you plan to do with these?"

"Why," he answered with the air of one who had done something truly creditable: "why, what could be more handy to clean and dry the pen-nib when one has finished writing?"

(3)

One of Mother's rules was to arrive early when she had an appointment. And in order not to be late, she often kept her clock well ahead, sometimes by as much as half an hour! This habit allowed her no rest at all after her midday meal. Sometimes mischievously I would put the clock back by half an hour once Mother had moved away after her meal. This mischief allowed her a little rest.

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(4)

Midday in summer.

It was naturally very hot in Pondicherry.

Mother went off to have her bath.

"Mother must be quite distressed by this heat," I thought to myself. So to make her room cooler I closed all the windows, drew the green curtains across them and switched on the air-conditioner. Like that when Mother came out of her bath she would relish the coolness and feel good.

But when Mother came out and saw what I had done, she was very annoyed: "Pranab, what have you done? You've stopped the fresh air from coming in. Won't you let me enjoy a little the breeze from outside?"

Quite abashed I quickly pulled back the curtains and opened the windows to let the hot summer breeze in.

I kept quiet and did not utter a word.

Mother never permitted the windows to be shut whether it was summer or winter.

Then, one night in winter, when Mother had gone to rest after dinner, a cold breeze was blowing into the room through the windows.

I asked very softly: "Mother, shall I close the windows?"

Mother replied: "No, no, let them be open."

I kept mum after this.

Much later at night I saw Mother fidget. I understood that she was feeling cold, but I ventured no suggestions.

After some time, I heard Mother call me: "Pranab!"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Pranab, you were wiser! Close the windows."

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I had just arrived in the Ashram and as is usual in the beginning many questions cropped up in my mind. I put these questions before Mother and she replied to them. After some time there were no more questions. I kept silent and so did Mother. I stopped asking her questions except for those concerning my work.

This happened during that early period when I used to ask her questions. During this time Pujalal used to sit quietly in a corner. One day Pujalal told me: "Why don't you write down these answers from Mother, all these valuable words may benefit others when they read them."

So I asked Mother one day: "Mother, should I write down all that you tell me?"

Mother countered: "Why do you wish to write them down?"

I said: "These are valuable words, what if I forget them later?"

Mother said: "All that I tell you, I say to your inner being. Your soul can never forget them. You'll remember them whenever they're needed."

(6)

One day Mother told me how two opposing dharmas are found side by side in a most wonderful manner. On one side patriotism, human goodwill, unflinching duty, self-sacrifice, courage and generosity, and on the other, just next to these, cheating, selfishness, petty intrigue, exploitation and oppression.

During the First World War Mother had some money in a foreign bank in Paris. As that country too was embroiled in the war Mother went to this bank to see if she could withdraw her money.

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When she got in she saw very few people inside and the Manager was sitting with a gloomy expression. He offered her a seat with great courtesy and despondently said: "Madame, please be seated. I'd like to tell you something as I can hardly hold it back. I'm terribly upset after discovering a military secret. The mere thought of it makes me suffer. But please don't tell anyone what I'll reveal to you."

Mother saw that the gentleman looked very downcast.

The gentleman said: "You know, two top-ranking commanders of France and Germany have come to a secret understanding: how they'll fight by winning in one zone and losing in another, advancing on one front and retreating on another. And they're bent on this purely for personal, monetary gain. War too has become mere speculation!"

Mother was shocked.

It is hard to imagine that while hundreds of noble soldiers were unperturbedly sacrificing their lives, their leaders were gambling for victory or loss.

(7)

Mother was told about another incident by a military commander.

The Germans had succeeded in capturing a strategically important bridge and a young German officer was put in charge. The French army was quite unsuccessful in dislodging him and gaining control of the bridge. Every time the French attacked, the young German officer would repulse them.

The commander told Mother: "At a certain moment I saw the man had come within my range of fire. I took aim and fired. The officer collapsed. Our French soldiers then rushed forward and quickly captured the bridge. I ran up to the German officer and saw that although he

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was still alive, his end was near. Before he died he muttered repeatedly, "Quelle terrible guerre, monsieur, quelle terrible guerre!" (What a terrible war, sir, what a terrible war!)

The commander told Mother: "We go to war, firing shells and missiles from afar without bothering to see who is killed and who is not. This is quite normal, but to shoot someone from close quarters, that's plain killing - murder."

Mother told me that the French commander was so deeply shocked by this realisation that within a few days he died.

(8)

The French had not all left Pondicherry yet. A French physician, who was a real gentleman, became a disciple of Mother. He was quite close to the Ashram. His wife, named Dutsy, also a physician, joined our Physical Education Department. Mother thought it good for a lady doctor like Dutsy to join the Ashram as this would enable our girls to receive some medical care.

This lady, however, was of a haughty temperament, and would always belittle others. She would very often boast about everything she had do. when she was eighteen and she enjoyed showing off.

On the basketball court she would come and remark: "How do you expect me to play basketball with the Ashram girls? I could perhaps try and score points by chucking some of these girls into the basket instead of the ball."

Mother told me: "Pranab, Dutsy's bragging nature must be curbed."

So in deference to Mother's wish I arranged a running competition with five girls of the Ashram. I can remember only Tapati and Kumud among them.

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I signalled the start at the Playground. The girls set off while Mother was waiting at the finishing line.

The trap had been laid! How could Dutsy match our Ashram girls?

And so, panting for breath, she finished last.

Mother said: "Now her pride is broken."

(9)

Mother would often use mischief to break this kind of pride in people.

In the early days of the Ashram an English woman used to be here who had been secretary to Paul Brunton, the philosopher. Mother named her Pavita. She stayed in the Ashram for quite some years. Then after Mother's passing she left for Australia. I hear now she is no more.

Pavita used to brag about her tennis. Not that she played well, but she harboured a false sense of superiority.

In those days tournaments were held in the Ashram. In the mixed doubles Pavita's partner was Nolini Sen. Mother used to play with these mixed pairs, one couple each day, late in the afternoons.

Mother said: "Pranab, you and I, we'll play against Pavita and her partner. Her false pride must be broken. Serve hard so that Pavita is unable to return."

The game started.

I began serving hard. Pavita just stood transfixed, her mouth gaping wide, unable to return a single serve. After losing the set she came to Mother and said: "Mother, Pranab served so hard that I could hear the ball being hit, I could even see the dust fly, but I just couldn't see the ball!" Mother smiled. Later she told me that Pavita had at last learnt her lesson.

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On Pranab's birthday - 18.10.51

(10)

When the Physical Education Department was set up, in the beginning we did not have much equipment for our physical demonstration programme. We needed some music-records. Benjamin, an old sadhak, said that he knew some people in town who would lend us some records. He requested Mother to allow him to get a gramophone.

So we held our physical demonstration programme in the Playground with music.

It was Pavita who looked after the children in the afternoon. Perhaps out of jealousy she reported one day to Mother: "Mother, Pranab is playing vulgar music at the Playground for the physical demonstration."

When Mother asked me I said: "Mother, I don't understand much about Western music. We selected the piece after listening to the melody and the rhythm."

Mother said: "No, Pranab, the music that was played wasn't good. If you come to me at five o'clock every evening, I'll play to you music of a higher inspiration. That'll make you understand what good music is. From now on you'll tell me and I'll select the right music for your drills." From that day I started going to Pavitra-da's room in the afternoons. On Mother's directions Pavitra-da would play the music of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, etc. on the gramophone. After a few days Mother asked me: "Can you now feel what good music is?" For several years Mother kept her promise of selecting music for the drills.

(11)

A fine artist named Mrs. Kaspary was on a visit to the Ashram in those days. She used to play the piano very well. Another musician had come too and she was a violinist.

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There was a musical story Mother loved very much: The Son of a Star which Kaspary played admirably.

Then Mother herself sang the story. I do not know how many of you have heard her sing. It was simply wonderful! And only one who has heard her can understand this. Mother was a soprano: her voice was exceedingly sweet and strong even though high-pitched. It is impossible to describe its beauty.

Mother told me once: "I have known all the fine arts — painting, singing, instrumental music, dancing, acting, recitation. However I did not reach up to the highest heights. I laid the foundation for making a garden of fine arts in an all-inclusive way. I did not wish to do anything more."

On this topic Mother said: "Let me tell you of an incident. While travelling in France I once stayed at a hotel in a town. I found a piano there. As nobody was around and I don't know what came into me but I began to play the piano. So completely absorbed I was that I lost all awareness of my surroundings. Quite some time later when I looked up I saw that silently a crowd had gathered around me and was raptly listening to my playing."

(12)

I have already told you about Mrs. Kaspary. Once she was to play the piano at Golconde accompanied by a European gentleman on the violin.

Mother took me along to hear them. After the concert Mother asked me: "Have you ever heard the violin before?"

I said: "Yes, Mother, my grandfather Saratchandra Bhattacharya used to play the violin very well. The Nawab of Murshidabad had a Goanese bandmaster named Alexander. My grandfather learnt to play from him. I heard him play when I was young."

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(13)

I had just arrived in the Ashram, I was very young then and one day I remember telling Mother: "Mother, you and Sri Aurobindo are good friends, aren't you?" I had meant someone 'close' by 'friend'.

Mother did not answer. What she thought of it she alone knew.

Later in the afternoon at an opportune moment Mother showed me the book The Mother by Sri Aurobindo and said: "Do you know this book? It was written by Sri Aurobindo about me. Sri Aurobindo calls me 'Mother'. You must read this book with me."

After that for a number of days she read The Mother to me. We used to have our midday meal together and after the meal Mother would read the book to me.

Then later she fully read her Prayers and Meditations, Words of Long Ago and other books as well. As this reading went on in the afternoons, one by one many came to join us. A good number started coming. Then Mother shifted it to the hall in front of the room where Sri Aurobindo's darshan was held, just above the Meditation Hall, so that there was enough space for all to sit.

There was a lot of pushing and shoving as everyone wanted to sit very close to Mother. So, instructed by Mother, Udar got some paper slips prepared with each one's name and he would keep these slips at the fixed places. Udar used to play a very active role in these sittings which lasted for quite some time. After the reading there was a question-answer session. One day Mother said: "Just as a man has a soul every country has its soul too. That is its true existence and its mission is to express that truth." Tinkori-da (the teacher and not the singer) suddenly came out with a question: "Now that the country has been split into India and Pakistan what has happened

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to the soul? Has the soul been split too?" Mother looked rather annoyed and said: "No, India's soul cannot be partitioned."

(14)

I had taken charge of the Physical Education Department in the Ashram. Mother told me one day, "You know that the medium of education in the Ashram is French. You'll have to give orders in French too." I said: "Mother, I don't know French."

"You'll learn French from me," Mother replied.

Thus began my French lessons from Mother. She would teach me one sentence each day. The following day I had to repeat it to her. Then began a really systematic study of the French language. It lasted for about two or three months.

(15)

When I first arrived in the Ashram, a football team had just been formed. Occasionally, this Ashram team used to play matches with teams from outside. Very often, the young boys of the Ashram, would go to see the game. But I always took Mother's permission and received her blessings beforehand. We never did anything or went anywhere without informing Mother.

One day we were ready to go to see a match. It was a 'Prosperity Day' - on these Prosperity days Mother was very busy and did not have any free time because after all her work she had to get ready for the afternoon Darshan. On that day too she was in a hurry.

Anyway, I approached Mother and said: "Mother, I, would like to say something."

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"Can't you see I have no time?" she replied, very annoyed.

I returned somewhat disappointed after this rebuke from Mother.

I have, however, always noted that whenever we were hurt in any way, Mother would, on some pretext or another, make us forget the hurt with a caress.

The same thing happened on that day too.

I came to Mother to receive my Prosperity blessings. We were all standing in a line and many people were behind me. Usually she did not speak during this time. On that day, however, Mother held my hand very warmly and asked: "Oh, you're going to take the boys to see the match, aren't you?" With these words she gave me such a loving smile that all my hurt evaporated.

(16)

Towards the end of 1958, Mother fell seriously ill. Her body became very weak. Dr. Sanyal advised her to take some chicken soup. After a lot of effort I managed to persuade Mother to take chicken soup. She drank only the soup while I ate the chicken.

Almost a month and a half later, it was rumoured that a fowl-pest was raging in the area so Mother's chicken soup was stopped. After a lapse of many years, perhaps in 1967-68, Mother fell ill again, and the doctor once again advised her to take chicken soup.

But this time too Mother refused.

Then chicken-stock cubes were suggested to which Mother agreed. But this is not as nutritious.

So what was to be done?

After much deliberation we decided to give her chicken- stock cube without letting her know it was proper chicken soup. Mother was served the chicken soup after it was very

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finely strained. But however well it may be strained, some residue does collect at the bottom of the bowl.

While drinking this soup Mother said in perfect innocence: "You see how well they prepare the stock that even a few pieces of chicken meat are found at the bottom."

Then Champaklal let the cat out of the bag: "Mother, they're serving you chicken soup in the name of chicken stock."

Mother exclaimed: "Is that so?"

Then she gave us a good scolding and said: "From now on don't serve me soup anymore."

We kept quiet after Mother's scolding.

In the afternoon she raised the topic again as if to console us.

Champaklal said: "Whatever you may say Mother, these chickens are really fortunate, they've all attained liberation!"

Mother said: "Yes, I did hear a similar story. A Rishi once started a yagna to save the country from a severe drought. But someone had to immolate himself in order to make the yagna successful. A rabbit agreed and was thereby released from all suffering."

Very enthusiastically Champaklal volunteered: "Mother, then I want to be a chicken."

Mother smiled: "No, my child. I won't be able to eat such a big chicken!"

The day closed with laughter all around.

(17)

At about 10 o'clock in the morning Mother used to walk for some time on the terrace above Dyuman-bhai's room. Chinmayee used to walk with her.

At that hour a crow would visit Mother. Mother had named this crow Blackie.

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The poor fellow could not quite articulate "Ma-Ma" but daily at the right hour it would caw "Ka-Ka-Ka".

Immediately Mother responded from the room to say: "Yes, yes, I am coming."

Mother used to give it a slice of bread, and it would fly away with it. What an act of grace that was!

(18)

Now let me recount to you a story of Mother's mischief.

I always partnered Mother in tennis. So every afternoon at 4 o'clock I had to be present in the Ashram.

I used to wait near the staircase by the side of Nirod- da's room. Below the staircase there was a chair and a small table. Mother came and sat on that chair; Dyumanbhai used to bring a cup of milk and a piece of chocolate on a tray and after placing it on the table he would go away. I had to drink that cup of milk and eat that piece of chocolate while Mother watched. Mother's chair and table are still there as before.

After having the milk and the chocolate I would go with Mother for tennis.

Mother, however, did not take any chocolate. She used to say: "People imagine I'm very fond of chocolate and so they send me a lot of chocolate. It's good, like that I can give you some."

Mother was not fond of mangoes either. If anyone sent her some mangoes she used to give them to me and ask:

"Are they good?" Yet, hearing Mother speak about mangoes I got the impression that she liked the Langra variety best.

I arrived at 4 o'clock as usual. It was a Prosperity day. Mother was to go for a long drive after tennis. Dyumanbhai, as usual, appeared with the milk and chocolate. I drank the milk and put the piece of chocolate in my

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pocket, .intending to eat it at some more opportune moment during the drive.

We used to be driven by Pavitra-da. I sat beside him and Mother sat behind.

After some time, I quietly brought out the packet of chocolate and gave Pavitra-da a piece.

Suddenly I felt Mother poking at my back like naughty girls do. I turned to look at her and with a sweet smile she put out her hand. I immediately broke a bit from my piece and placed it on her hand. And even as she continued smiling she put it in her mouth and began enjoying it happily.

(19)

Here is a story, that many might not know. I was very moved when Mother told it to me. Once her father suffered a heavy loss in his business. After paying back all his debts he became, overnight, very poor. Mother and her brother Matteo suffered days of great privation. Their mother gave more attention to the son and the parents took much more care about his food, studies and other necessities.

Even in such poverty Mother felt no distress of any kind and faced everything very stoically.

Mother had to walk to her parties as she could not afford to hire a carriage. Her companions would mock at her and ask: "Why are your shoes so dirty?" Mother simply ignored them with great patience.

Much later, when Mother was older, about seventeen or eighteen, she used to tutor some young children in drawing. Often she also made large copies from photographs of people who had died. In this way she earned some extra money.

But her drawing-tuitions never lasted long. The masters

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of these houses, Mother said, were often more interested in her than in the progress of their children's drawing

lessons.

The following incident took place some time later when Mother was already married to an artist-friend.

As she was walking along the street she saw a beautiful petticoat hanging in a shop-window. Mother's petticoat was quite worn-out but she could not afford to buy the one in the shop-window. She came back home.

That very day Mother's husband said that he had sold one of his pictures and asked her what he could buy for her.

Mother said: "I'd like to buy the petticoat in that shop-window."

I was deeply moved when I heard this from Mother.

(20)

I remember another interesting story about Mother. It happened during the First World War. Mother was sailing on a ship. I do not remember where she was going.

The ship was out in the open sea when suddenly, the captain emerged, and informed the passengers that a German submarine had been sighted nearby and on account of possible danger he requested everyone to collect their valuables and get ready to leave in boats to be set adrift.

Everyone tied up their valuables in a bundle in great fear and got ready. But Mother remained calm, feeling no fear. All she did was put her nail-cutter, scissors and knives together and quietly she waited.

I asked her: "Mother, instead of taking your valuables why did you take such trifles as scissors and knives?"

Mother said: "It's madness, what can one do with things of value? Who knows to what unknown islands one would be carried by the waves. Was I to become a wild

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woman there with overgrown nails and unkempt hair? That's why I took the nail-cutter, knives and scissors."

She laughed a lot as she told me this.

(21)

I was reading something by Mahasthabir (pen name of a famous Bengali writer, meaning - 'the old one'). It was a story about a brahmin from Maharashtra. The man's surname was Pandit, and he had been to France to study engineering. There he came in contact with a group of spiritualists. Later this Pandit returned to India. The writer had taken refuge in this man's house after fleeing from home. Once when a sudden fire broke out he very heroically saved the Pandit's daughter.

After reading this writing by Mahasthabir it suddenly occurred to me that the group of spiritualists he had come in contact with might have been the same as Mother's.

I described the Pandit to Mother just as he had been featured in the book and asked if she had known someone of that description.

Mother was delighted when she heard this: "Yes, yes, Pandit, we used to call him Pandit too. He was a nice man, very amusing, and he was a good speaker."

(22)

I heard Mother once say that in one of her previous lives she had been the princess of a small kingdom somewhere in the Himalayas. She was very beautiful but she died very young.

The king announced: "Her body mustn't be destroyed, she should be beautifully dressed and her body kept in a cave filled with ice." This was done.

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Mother told me that once she saw in a vision that the princess' body was still lying in that faraway cave.

(23)

Mother saw me in one of my previous births in a vision. It was in ancient Greece. I was playing marbles by the Acropolis on the street.

(24)

Once Mother told me of a vision she had when she had visited Venice.

She was in a gondola in one of the deep canals. A gondola, as you know, is a Venetian pleasure-boat. There are big ancient palaces and old mansions along the canals. The time was nearly evening and its fading light played with darkness on the old buildings.

As her gondola was going past a mansion she felt as if a man had been murdered there and thrown into the canal from the ramparts. The place was throbbing with the vibrations of a fearful nightmare. Perhaps the remnants of this horrendous incident from the past were still present in a very subtle form at the landing of this nearly dark fort. She saw this in a clear vision. Who knows? She may have been a witness to the murder.

(25)

Quite some time ago a Punjabi family decided to come and live here. The family consisted of a man, his wife, a daughter of about six and a son of two. They had brought a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy to look after the young

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son. His name was Bir Singh and he was from the British Garhwal of those days.

A number of years passed, the little son grew up and soon started moving all by himself. So Bir Singh's duties came to an end. But Mother did not send him back to his home but asked him to join the Ashram. He was given work at the Ashram Press. He also joined the Group-activities. In the C group of those days he used to play with Mona, Manoj, Sumantra and others. He was a good sportsman and used to be in the first division in the competitions.

Things were going on fine when suddenly he decided to go home for a visit. Mother tried a lot to dissuade him but Bir Singh was determined. He assured Mother that he would meet his folk and return within a month.

He did go but could not return. Mother had told him as he was leaving that he would not be able to return. And so it happened. That was his destiny. He had got the opportunity of rising from a servant boy to become an ashramite and then he squandered it. Let me tell you a funny story about him.

This happened after he had already joined the Group activities and had got to know the other boys well. He no longer looked like a servant. One fine morning my younger brother took upon himself the task of teaching Bir Singh English.

Bir Singh's English lessons went on in our house in the evenings. My brother taught him to count one, two, three, four, etc. in English, he was also taught a, b, c, d. Then cat, mat, sat, fat, etc., after which small English Sentences were taught. When this was done, English grammar was introduced. Noun, pronoun, verb, adverb, etc. were tackled.

To find out if he knew the difference between nouns and pronouns his teacher asked him one day in Hindi, "Bir Singh, billee kya hai?” (i.e., "Tell me what’s a 'cat’ (noun or pronoun)”). After a lot of thought Bir Singh

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answered: "Billee ek janwar hai.” (i.e., "The cat is an animal.”)

In utter despair Bir Singh's teacher put an end to his English lessons.

Bir Singh's story reminds me of another person. Now let me tell you about him.

When our Tennis court was ready in 1948, a French gentleman arrived whose name was M.Répiton. He had been a general in the French army. When General de Gaulle liberated Paris from the Germans with his army towards the end of the Second World War, M. Répiton was with him as well.

Later when France got embroiled in the Vietnam War, the French government wanted to send Répiton there as a general. By then, however, Répiton had understood the torture of being under a foreign yoke. He was no longer willing to go to a war in order to subjugate another nation. He resigned from the French army and came away to the Ashram.

He was an expert fencing master. It was due to his enthusiasm that in our Ashram the Physical Education Department started a fencing section. He got all the equipment for fencing from France. His fencing class began in the wall-practice area in the Tennis Ground with a group of about ten or twelve boys and girls. Some turned out to be good fencers. With these he gave a demonstration before Mother in the Playground. Everyone was pleased.

M.Répiton lived alone in the Ashram while his wife lived in France. Suddenly one day he felt the urge to return to France, earn some money and take care of his wife. He thought this was his duty. So he left for France. Not long after we got the news that M. Répiton had passed away after a heart attack. His wife however was still alive. How ironical fate is!

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(26)

Once I strongly felt like reading the life of Napoleon. I was told that Sri Aurobindo had asked some older sadhaks in the Ashram to read Abbott's Life of Napoleon. I found a copy of the book and I would read it daily in Mother's room. One day at noon while Mother was resting, I was reading the book in a corner near the window.

Mother suddenly woke up from her rest and asked me: "What's happening? I suddenly saw Napoleon get into my room. He was showing me his maps and charts of the war."

I said: "I don't know anything about that but I'm reading here a book on the life of Napoleon."

Mother asked: "Who's the author?"

"It's by Abbott."

"But Abbott's an Englishman. The English don't like Napoleon," said Mother.

I said: "Mother, that's true, but this writer writes beautifully." And I read the entire preface out to Mother.

Mother was pleased.

Once I heard that K. M. Munshi who was one of Sri Aurobindo's pupils wanted to make a poetic rendering in English of Abbott's book.

But Sri Aurobindo stopped him saying: "Instead of this useless labour why don't you write something in Gujarati?"

Later he jokingly told his friends: "You've all been deprived of an epic poem because of Sri Aurobindo."

(27)

Mother was very fond of animals and birds. One day She told me:

"In animals there is a simple, natural and strong beauty. Because of the remarkable resonance between

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their, physical and vital beings - there is a beautiful balance and harmony. Wild birds and beasts have it no doubt, but tigers and snakes too have an ancient original beauty and grace derived from Nature's creation - a marvellous harmony. This is so because in each one of them there is a miraculous harmony in the creation of their body and life. It is because of this that animals have an inborn, abiding feeling that we call instinct. The mind has not intruded into their system and destroyed this equilibrium as it has done in men. That is why they have neither maladies nor griefs. There is no distortion in their own nature. If they happen to fall ill then they can very easily restore the harmony in their body and life, and for this they don't need any great effort.

"But man is unable to do so because mind has come into him. Mind has disrupted the inborn, effortless harmony of his physical and vital.

"But again when Supermind enters man and takes charge of his being then man too will become capable .of a higher harmony. The result will be a new equilibrium of his mind, life and body. He will gain a nobler beauty and grace and all the modern crookedness and distortion will disappear. He will gain with ease an infallible direct Knowledge that is beyond the senses. We can discern some of it among Yogis and great men - this we call spiritual intuition. But the Supermind will bring into play a harmony that is far superior."

Mother studied the ways and movements of animals, birds and insects very keenly. She was able to exchange her feelings with them. She said: "Even among animals the tendencies of envy, hate, of dominating others are visible."

Mother recounted an amusing story about this. Once she went to a zoological garden somewhere in France. She saw there a pair of black panthers in a cage; a cave-like place had been got ready in which the two panthers were sitting with their tails curled in.

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Mother felt the male to be more open and as she approached the cage she gazed at him and called him with great affection: "You're so beautiful and so good!"

I have mentioned before that Mother was able to exchange feelings with animals. They too in their own way could understand Mother's feelings.

While Mother was speaking so affectionately to the panther he got up stretching his limbs with a big yawn and looking at Mother rather docilely began wagging his tail. Then with a strange rattling noise in his throat he came toward Mother near the railing.

Mother said: "How gentle you are. How beautiful and how good."

The panther, feeling flattered, began to wag his tail.

On the other hand the female panther who was observing all this began to growl in anger. After some time she could not stand it any more. She shook herself and growling angrily came to the male panther and whipped him hard with her tail. It was amply clear that she had had enough of this and she sat down at a distance and continued to growl.

A little confused the male kept glancing once at her and then at Mother. A little later he too removed himself from the proximity of the railing and quietly went and sat down beside his partner.

(28)

Hunting or killing animals was utterly distasteful to Mother.

Once Mother happened to join a hunting party against her will and despite her dislike for this sport.

In the woods one of the hunters placed a gun in her hands and said: "Now, shoot. There, look, there's a bunch of wild hares."

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Mother could have aimed quite accurately but she intentionally aimed a little above the hares and fired. She pretended to have missed. The party was happy that Mother had taken part and Mother too got away without killing the hares.

(29)

I was then only five. We lived in our country-house in Berhampore. I used to call my great grandfather 'Burodadu'. We were walking in the garden holding hands. I noticed a small bulbul on a tree and immediately I began to implore: "Burodadu, please catch that bulbul for me."

What could Burodadu do? So he called a servant and told him: "See if you can catch that bulbul."

Poor chap! how could he catch a wild bird? He climbed the tree and began to move from one branch to another. The little bird too kept flitting here and there.

Burodadu told me: "You can see that the bird can't be caught. The best you can do is to imagine this entire garden as yours. The trees are yours and even the bird is yours. It is your bird flying there from one tree to another."

I was consoled and very happy to hear these words.

(30)

In our home we were used to eating fish and meat. Young goats and sheep were bought and kept in the garden. If anyone felt like having meat then a young goat or sheep from the garden was sent to the temple of Kali, where after being sacrificed to Mother Kali it was cooked. No onions or garlic or chillies were used - only pepper was allowed.

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Once a young sheep was brought, and I used to play with it a lot. So sending it to Kali was out of the question. If anyone even suggested the contrary: "No, no, that one mustn't be sent to the temple, who will Pinu (Pranab) play with?" was the answer.

In a short while the sheep became big and whenever possible it would try to ram into people. Yet Burodadu's prohibition was there: "No, no, that one must be spared."

One day while I was playing with this sheep Burodadu came and lifted me in his arms. I don't know whether the sheep was overcome with jealousy but it made the ghastly blunder of butting Burodadu.

This annoyed Burodadu very much and at once he ordered: "There, send this one to the temple today and don't forget."

(31)

Let me tell you the story of my finding Sita.

When I was young, my grandfather's mother used to tell me stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata and I would always listen to her with great wonder, utterly spellbound. In my child's imagination Rama, Lakshmana, Bhishma, Drona all came to life to create a fairy-tale .world. And like all young children I used to get hold of a bow and arrow and walk around the tanks in the gar- den, imagining myself to be Rama himself and the banks of the tank as the bathing gnat of the river Saraju.

One day I saw Burodadu sitting in a chair in the courtyard of the house. A curly headed Santhal (an adivasi) was standing in front of him with a bare torso. He had placed a bow and arrow in front of Dadu.

Burodadu called me: "Here Pinu, here are your bow and arrow. Well, do you like them?"

With great joy I took up the bow and arrow and said: "Oh yes! They're wonderful!"

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Dada (Pranab) with brothers and pet dog in Calcutta (1936)

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Pranab at Calcutta Zoo - 1938

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Dadu said: "If you can break this bow like Rama did then I'll find a Sita for you too."

I tried my best to break it but a strong bow made by a real Santhal was not easy to break. I could not with all my might. Dadu kept smiling as he watched me try.

I had an armoury where I used to keep all my bows and arrows, shield and lance, and all my playthings. The staircase from Chandi Mandap* used to go straight up to Narayana's** room. My playthings used to be kept under that dark staircase. This staircase was rarely used by anyone except during pujas. Then again when I would get angry or felt unhappy about anything I would go alone to that dark staircase and sit there alone in silence.

Then I grew up and went to Calcutta to get into college. Once, while I was in Berhampore on a holiday, I suddenly felt an urge to see if the armoury of my childhood days was still there under the dark staircase. There, to my amazement, I found my bow and arrow, exactly as they were before. A lot of dust had collected over them.

As I took up the bow and pulled at the string the bow broke with a snap.

But by then my Burodadu was no more and so I could not win my Sita!

(32)

While at Berhampore I went to visit the palace of Maharaja Nandakumar. Although hardly anything was left of the palace I saw a painting of Sri Chaitanyadev. Perhaps a not-so-well-known artist had managed to get a sitting from Sri Chaitanyadev. Being an original painting it was of historical value.

* Place for worship

** Lord Vishnu

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I also saw two very big diamonds that people had named the Suryakanta and Chandrakanta gems. The Suryakanta gem was a little smaller but from it I saw a lustre coming out.

There was also a small Shivalinga made of solidified mercury, a beautiful and a rare thing. They tell me that none of those things are there any more.

In the Nawab of Murshidabad's palace I saw an original painting by Raphael. I believe this too was stolen.

(33)

In Berhampore we started a club in our courtyard. A few young ones like us started doing physical exercises there.

From the courtyard we shifted the club to our garden. There we installed the wooden pieces for dunds* and also fixed parallel bars thus getting together a physical culture set-up of some sort.

The club continued in this way for some time.

One day we were told that a saw-mill would be set up in the garden and we had better shift our club.

We started looking around for a suitable place.

One of my relatives had a garden which was sold. A number of people had bought small portions. Sri Sasankasekhar Sanyal had bought a slightly bigger plot than the rest.

He said: "Since I am not building now the place will remain empty, you could start your club there but, my friends, see that the fruits in the garden are not touched."

We promised to abide.

The plot was on the road towards the railway station. Our club started functioning there.

One day at noon while I was going towards the station

*Dips

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on an errand, I felt that some people were busy doing- something surreptitiously. I became suspicious.

No sooner had I entered the garden than some fellows quickly hid themselves in the bushes around.

I stood nonplussed.

All of a sudden a mischievous boy brought a some- what large coconut with its top sliced off. He held it before me and said: "Pinuda, please take this." I did not know whether to laugh or cry at this boy's brazen act.

It was quite clear that they were pilfering green coco- nuts from the garden. I gave them a good scolding and said: "We gave our word to the gentleman, and this is how you keep it, isn't it terribly unfair?"

They felt quite ashamed and promised that they would never do it again.

After that day no one ever touched the fruits of that garden.

(34)

I was then a student of class VIII at Jagatbandhu Institute at Ballygunje. I lived with my parents and brothers in a rented house on Ekdalia Road.

One day at noon my second brother and I were busy preparing for our examination. However we could not concentrate on our studies as our minds were restless.

Suddenly looking out of the window at the footpath opposite our house, we saw two mendicants sitting under a tree, one on his tiger-skin and the other on his antelope-skin.

Here was an opportunity for a short break. I told my brother: "Let's go and have a little fun with the Sadhus*."

We approached the hermits but they did not impress us as being genuine.

*Wandering monks

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