I Remember

One day, when Mother was passing that way, she said: "This house, Pranab, will be kept for your children's kitchen and dining room."

At that time the house belonged to someone else. There was no hope of our getting it. And yet Mother said this.

Before long, legal proceedings began between the Marwari and the French Company. In the end the house came up for auction and we got it for a rather low price.

As the house was at the intersection of two roads and very near the Playground, Mother named it Corner House.

This Corner House became the kitchen and dining­ room for the children. Chandubhai, a Gujarati sadhak, was given charge. Needless to say, he was not for non-vegetarian food. He wrote to Mother to know what kind of food should be served at the Corner House. Would it be vegetarian or non-vegetarian? And who would eat there? He did not forget to mention that he preferred vegetarian food. Mother in reply told him: "Both kinds will be served. Every day there will be eggs and at least once a week some non-vegetarian dish should be served. Students, captains and teachers would be free to eat there."

(92)

One day, in the July of 1945, I am not sure of the date, at about nine o'clock in the evening, Amrita-da sent for me.

When I went to him, he said: "Pranab, Mother wants you to take the children to Salle Jeanne d'Arc for a film­show tomorrow morning."

In those days, there was no arrangement for showing films in the Ashram. There were no more than thirty or forty children.

I listed the names of the children and went to each

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one's house to inform them that they had to be at the Playground the following morning by half-past six and that I would take them to a film-show. The film was Pinocchio.

After the show, at noon, I took them to Mother. Mother used to meet the little ones on the first floor in the room above the Meditation Hall. They would sit in a line and Mother would give them a flower or sometimes sweets or chilled tomatoes and things of the sort.

On that day too Mother gave them something and then asked: "How did you like the film?"

Mother asked me to briefly recount the story.

That was our first experience of cinema in the Ashram. After this, on two occasions I went with Mother to a cinema outside the Ashram. One was a film on Rodin, his life and sculpture, and the other a Russian film on the May Day parade. That was at the end of 1948 or early 1949. On both these occasions, we hired and booked the entire cinema hall for ourselves. Apart from these, the French, British and American embassies occasionally sent us 16mm films that we screened in the Playground. This was from 1945 to 1950, and they brought along their own projector and screen as well.

From the second of December 1946, Mother started coming out of the Ashram occasionally. First, it was not frequent but later it became more regular. Mother used to watch our physical Education activities with great interest. She would play table-tennis at Nanteuil. She even came to watch films with us in the Playground.

When my father, Dakshinapada, came to the Ashram for good, he brought a 16mm projector for silent films with him. He also arranged with the British Embassy to have some films sent to us. These were talkies, but we found we could run them on our silent projector without damaging the film. Mother saw those films with us. Although the films were not spoilt in this way, Dyuman-bhai, sensing our problem

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but asked me to view the films first. I used to tell Mother about the film and after that she would decide whether it was worth screening.

The films that were perverse or in bad taste, with an excess of emotion, cheap farce or too much violence, these Mother thought were not in harmony with the Ashram life and she rejected them.

Once we received a film on the life of the musician Chopin, but after viewing it, Mother rejected it. She explained to us that whenever she would hear Chopin's music she would feel uneasy. Now after seeing this film she understood the reason for her uneasiness.

Chopin became very ill towards the end of his life, yet, despite his illness, he went on touring Europe giving concerts in order to raise money for the freedom struggle in Poland.

There were times when Chopin, while playing on the piano in a concert, would cough up blood. He would quietly wipe off the blood with his handkerchief without stopping to play. That gives us a measure of his patriotism.

Naturally something of the vibration of his illness crept into his music and this is why Mother felt a vibration of illness whenever she heard his music. And so she rejected the film because she did not want the Ashram children to absorb that vibration of illness.

On another occasion, we received a Hindi film about rebirth. After seeing it I narrated to Mother its contents. Mother said: "What has been said in the film about rebirth is incorrect," and rejected the film. She also cancelled Othello. Although from an artistic point of view the film was remarkable it did not fit in with the Ashram atmosphere.

Mother gave great importance to a film's theme and intentions. She passed it only if the film was in resonance with our Ashram life. After the film, Mother pointed out to me its good and bad aspects, its beautiful and defective sides, where it succeeded and where it failed in a detailed

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manner. Sometimes I questioned her to know more, and often had long discussions with her. In this way she taught me how to choose a film. I have continued doing so to the best of my ability.

Cinema is certainly an art, and this art has many facets such as acting, photography, direction, music, Costumes, make-up, decor, laboratory work, editing, etc. All these facets get beautifully highlighted through cinema. But art is not merely for art's sake. Art is only a medium to express an emotion or an ideal. A good artist shows it in an effective way, a bad one in a clumsy way.

I keep an eye on the story of the film being in harmony with our Ashram life. If it fulfils this fundamental condition, I pass it, otherwise even if the artistry is excel­ lent I reject it. When a film is clearly meant or not meant for the Ashram there is no difficulty, but the difficulty arises when the film cannot be judged in a very clear-cut manner. One can neither pass nor reject it. If it is approved I feel somewhat uneasy. Such a film falls on the fringe of our vision of life and when such a situation arises I usually approve, for one cannot be too strict. However such cases are rare. Sometimes when a film is not so good but has nothing objectionable in it, I usually pass it.

Often well-known films have been rejected as they were out of tune with our life here. I remember the film based on Rabindranath's story, Hungry Stones. It came to the Ashram and was rejected because the film seemed to overstress Tagore's story with several overdramatic and frightening scenes which I felt would not be quite appropriate for the children of the Ashram.

My rejection shocked and disheartened many here. Satyabrata's father Nolini Sen did not hesitate to express himself: "How could you reject Rabindranath's Hungry Stones, Pranab?" Then Satyabrata hired a theatre outside and arranged for the screening of the film there. The amusing part of it all was that after seeing the film Nolini

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Sen came and told me: "No you were right Pranab to reject the film!"

And that is why this is such a thankless job. If I reject a film I am criticised by some, if I pass it I am criticised by others. But despite this twin danger, I try and fulfil my responsibility to the best of my ability.

(93)

Mother once felt that she should appraise the physical fitness of the inmates of the Ashram, and find out whose body was the best from the point of view of health, beauty, structure and skill in work. She called this com­ petition the "Best Physical Base".

The entire Ashram was informed about this.

Now, as many imagined that Mother herself would examine the participants, nearly everyone wanted to be enlisted: tiny tots, old sadhaks, men, women, all turned up. Almost one hundred and fifty names figured on the list.

On seeing this list Mother said: "So many people of different ages, of diverse conditions, how will I ever man­ age to select from among these?"

And so, finally, she simply dropped the idea of finding the "Best Physical Base"!

(94)

Mother once said: "If a person shows a special eagerness or interest for something, it means he is also equipped and capable in that field."

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(95)

Mother once told me that she had gone round the whole of France on a cycle with some of her women-friends. They cycled through towns and villages and at sundown stopped to rest at some wayside inn. For courage, sustained effort, patience, mental strength and endurance, this enterprise of Mother's was a great adventure indeed.

One evening, Mother stopped with her friends in an inn. The room was dark. Her friends were sleeping un­ perturbed but Mother was extremely alert. Late at night she noticed a black head silently peering through a gap in the door.

Mother did not wake her friends so as not to frighten them. She called out in a hard and grave voice: "Who's there? Come out!

There was such a power and intrepidity in that fearless voice that at once the scoundrel slipped out like a mouse in sheer fright.

(96)

I used to enjoy listening to Mother recount stories from her younger days.

Once she told me that her father was very fond of going to the circus. He never let an opportunity go by. Often he would take Mother along. But his wife did not like going to the circus at all. That is why he would take Mother on the sly.

Whenever Mother spoke of her younger days, a marvellous smile would light up her face and her eyes would acquire that indescribably soft gentle gaze, and mesmerised I would listen.

Mother's father was a most simple, thoughtful and absent-minded person. Once he suffered a tremendous

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loss in his business, and as a result, after paying back all his debts he became penniless overnight.

But even this debacle did not break him. He was fond of keeping birds and kept those small, colourful birds called Love Birds and he spent a lot of time with them.

(97)

Mother always encouraged the good in each person and never took notice of the bad side.

At 3 o'clock in the afternoons, Mother used to give interviews in her second-floor room. Every afternoon at five o'clock I used to go to her to make her do a few freehand. exercises. One day, I noticed it was past five o'clock, but someone was still talking to her. Although I had gone at my appointed time, on finding a gentleman talking to her, I decided to wait.

There is no need to reveal his identity but he was lying to the Mother unashamedly. I could not restrain myself any longer and blurted out: "Mother! he's lying!"

Naturally the gentleman confessed that he had been indeed lying. Mother simply asked him to correct this defect in the future.

From the very next day, I found that his interview-time had been changed. He now would see Mother in the morning after breakfast. I understood that Mother had made this arrangement so as not to embarrass the gentle­ man by my presence after what had happened.

(98)

After her tennis in the afternoon, Mother used to come straight to the Playground. As exercise at the Tennis Ground I would ask Mother to walk with me for a while

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But then her walks at the Tennis Ground stopped and Mother started walking for some time in the Playground.

Seeing her walk alone in the Playground, many volunteered to accompany her, among them were Gauri, Minnie, Millie, Violet, Vasudha, my aunt, Priti and Dutsy. But she walked so fast that none of them could keep pace with her!

We used to joke: "There goes Mother with her eight 'Sakhis'." (The reference was to the eight female companions of the Divine Mother in our scriptures.)

Millie-di recounted an incident of that time to me. After her return from tennis, Mother took classes twice a week for the older people - a translation-class. Mother would translate Sri Aurobindo's writings into French. There were between thirty to thirty-five persons attending this class.

Mother sat on a chair on a raised platform with Pavitra-da beside her seated at a slightly lower level. The younger lot sat in front and right at the end, on the last bench, sat Nolini-da and Amrita-da.

One day, Mother was trying to find the correct French translation of an English term. Mother asked Pavitra-da: "Now Pavitra, you're a pundit, tell me what would be the correct French equivalent?" Pavitra-da gave seven or eight words one after the other but none of them satisfied Mother.

Some others came up with suggestions but Mother rejected them. Then Mother asked Satprem: "What about you, Satprem?" He gave one but Mother dismissed that as well. Then Mother asked the entire class: "Can anyone tell me?" Silence, no one ventured a suggestion.

Now Mother turned to Nolini-da sitting on the last bench: "Nolini, why don't you try?"

Nolini-da stood up and in his sweet voice whispered a Word. "That's it!" Mother exclaimed delightedly. She was very happy and so was Pavitra-da.

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I always noted that whenever anything was to be given for publication Mother used to ask Nolini-da to go over it. She never gave anything to the Press without showing it to Nolini-da first.

She once told me: "Intellectually, it is Nolini who understands Sri Aurobindo's writings best."

(99)

Now let me tell you about some amusing and interesting interviews of Mother.

The year was 1947, the country had just become independent. Some well-known bigwig came to visit Mother. The interview was to take place in Pavitra-da's room, in the afternoon. While Mother was waiting in this room, I waited for Mother in the adjoining verandah.

The gentleman entered but then within a minute I saw. Mother come out. Astonished I asked: "That's all?"

Mother smiled and said: "Pranab, the gentleman entered and said, 'Mother and Sri Aurobindo's contribution to India is really great.' I replied: 'But India doesn't seem to recognise it.' At that the gentleman got up and left! It was so very unexpected!

On another occasion, something else happened at the Playground. A gentleman came to visit Mother. One minute later I saw Mother storm out in a huff.

I asked: "What happened, Mother?"

Mother said: "You know Pranab, the man told me that once he had been in great difficulty and one of his friends helped him out with a lot of money. This friend saved him. Now the man is saying that he doesn't want to return the money to him but he would like his friendship not to be affected. He came to me to know if I could help him in this. It made me so angry to hear him talk like this that I walked out of the room."

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On yet another occasion, a gentleman came and told Mother that his wife's health was worsening day by day. But she kept getting pregnant and every time she miscarried.

On hearing this Mother reprimanded him: "Why do you make her pregnant?"

After Mother's forthright stroke the poor chap went trembling out of the room!

(100)

I believe some sort of a misunderstanding took place after Mother's meeting with President Rajendra Prasad.

Let me tell you what happened. President Rajendra Prasad came to meet Mother. But since his doctors had prohibited him to climb stairs, the meeting was arranged downstairs in the Meditation Hall. A beautiful chair had been kept on a lovely carpet for him to sit on.

Rajendra Prasad talked with Mother for quite some time. He bowed in pranam and received her blessings. Some photographs were taken.

A photograph was printed in the papers the next day showing Mother on her feet while the President was bowing full of devotion with folded hands.

This provoked some comments. "How was this possible? The President of the country bowing his head while Mother does not even care to reciprocate! Is this how she respects dignitaries?"

Mother was extremely saddened to hear such comments made by people in the country and said: "Rajendra Prasad came to me with the attitude of a bhakta, of a son. That's why he bowed in pranam and I too did my namaskar to him. But the journalists photographed only Rajendra Prasad's pranam but not mine. What can I do about that?"

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Mother entering the Playground (1961-62)

Mother recounting stories to the children at the Playground - 1952

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Athletic competitions at the Sports Ground

Mother noting results - 1954

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Mother was very hurt by this.

How well we know that even if a passing pedestrian raised his hand to greet her, she would always respond at once with a reciprocal greeting. Such a compassionate and gracious Mother, and yet even about her we had to hear such things!

(101)

Mother took immense care of each and every object. Everything has life and consciousness so Mother used everything with extreme affection, love and care. When we saw her take care of things we felt as if she was caressing them. She would herself clean the wash-basin after using it.

When the clarinet for me arrived from France, she called me at once and showed me how to clean and store it. Mother used to say that every musician ought to keep his instruments with great care and love, only then does the instrument respond happily in the artist's hands.

The staircase leading to the first-floor on which Mother used to give pranam had once to be painted. Now the question arose as to how people would go for pranam if the paint did not dry. It was decided that one side of the staircase would be painted and people would go to Mother along the other side. When this side was dry then the other side would be painted.

Mother stood at the top and people went up one by one, climbing along one side of the stairs. But even at that time she kept a sharp watch to see that everyone came up the correct side and nobody touched the wet paint.

One day, Mother was lying in her second-floor room when, at about one-thirty or two at night it started raining heavily and the window panes and the lower part of the windows became wet.

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So Mother got up and brought two old pieces of cloth and told me: "Pranab, let's mop up the water under the windows and wipe them clean."

At that hour of the night we wiped all the windows and dried the sills.

When it was over she said: "Now we can go to sleep."

When her second-floor room was ready Mother took me upstairs to have a look at it. After seeing everything she said: "There's one problem, if the staircase door were to shut accidentally from outside then we wouldn't be able to get out!"

I said: "If that ever happens I'll go down by the rainwater pipe and open the door from outside."

"You see me going down by the rainwater pipe?" Mother enquired laughing.

I said: "No, but why should you? I'll go down the pipe."

Mother continued laughing: "I thought you would make me go down the rainwater pipe!"

(102)

When Mother first came to Pondicherry, towards the beginning, she found Sri Aurobindo keeping money under the table cloth or under his bed.

Mother asked him: "Why do you keep money in this way?"

Sri Aurobindo said: "If money is not kept hidden the boys will take it and go to town and spend it on food and drink."

Mother said: "From now on I'll take charge of your money."

So after this, she took the responsibility of keeping Sri Aurobindo's money. Mother had her own money as well which she spent for her personal needs. There were two

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separate accounts, one for the Ashram expenses and one for her own.

But the Ashram never had an excess of money. Nearly all its needs were met thanks to Mother's money and almost all her money was spent on the Ashram's expenses.

At the very beginning, the Ashram Trust used to keep an account of the money she spent for the Ashram. But then so much was being spent from her own account that the Ashram Trust stopped keeping two separate accounts. Only the Ashram account was retained.

Mother used to budget the monthly expenses. She kept an eye over what was spent. Thanks to her intelligent organisation the Ashram somehow managed to meet its expenses. After some time, progressively, the Ashram could begin saving some money.

While offering money to Mother, many would write "For your personal use". But Mother always gave every­ thing to the Ashram saying, "How can I have anything personal? If someone is in need I give him from this fund."

Mother would also give money to many individuals separately through me, whenever she saw someone was in great need.

(103)

From 1947 onwards Mother would often say: "If you ever feel that I have left the body and gone away, don't rush to entomb me, for I may have gone into a deep trance. Protect my body very carefully. Only when you have absolute proof that I have left my body, should you entomb me. I don't mean that I'm leaving my body. But if I ever do then bury me under the Service tree in the Ashram."

In the beginning, I used to listen to her words very seriously and try to understand their import. Later, I noted

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that whenever Mother was a little out of sorts, or a little sad, she used to start talking about this. So that is why, whenever I saw her in that state, I would avoid giving too much importance to what she said and try and divert her mind by talking about other things. And as a result, she would come round.

A few days later she said: "If some day you want to be a trustee of the Ashram, then you have only to say and they'll make you one. This too I've put down there."

I told you before that whenever Mother spoke in this vein I would take no notice and change the topic of conversation.

Then when Mother finally did leave her body, I remembered her diary. I thought I should see if Mother had left any directions about my future course of action.

So I spoke to Kumud and she opened the cupboard and brought the diary out.

On opening the diary, I found the first few pages had some writing. But at the end many pages had been torn out. On the last page was a note from Mother saying: "I have retained only those things that are 'more true'. All that is superficial I have removed." The note ended with "Blessings" and her signature.

There were no directions at all about what I was to do after her physical withdrawal. So her last rites were performed according to what she had told me earlier. I consulted Nolini-da, Andre-da, Champaklal-ji, Dyuman­ bhai, Kumud and Dr. Sanyal before taking the decision.

I consider it as Mother's supreme Grace that she did not leave any directions to me in the diary. First, Mother left me completely independent and free. She did not tie me down to any sort of responsibility. Secondly, by leaving a note in her own hand, Mother took care to remove any eventual doubt from people's minds that I may have torn those pages out myself to destroy the negative things that Mother may have said about me. Whenever I think of this compassion of Mother's, her foresight and great affection, I am overwhelmed.

I have kept the diary with me.

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School's foundation day - 6.1.53

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Mother visiting Harpagon Workshop - 26.4.54

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my forty first birthday for instance, I got 4100 rupees, on my forty second 4200 rupees, and so on.

Mother said: "Save the thousands and spend the hundreds." Mother continued giving me this present on my birthday till her last days.

Some time later, on a Saturday, as she was giving me my weekly allowance, she said: "I've given you a 'little' raise!"

On opening the envelope, I found 15 rupees inside. Later she raised this to 25 rupees.

One day I told Mother: "Mother you give me so much money, you know what people will say? They'll say that when you sleep I steal money from your cupboard. Can you imagine how I'll feel then?"

She kept silent for a while and said: "Give me a piece of paper. I'll write down that I've given you all this money."

I said: "That won't be necessary. But keep this risk in mind."

After that, for the last two years, she gave me my birthday present in the presence of people like Dr. Sanyal or Champaklal, et al.

That my fear was not unfounded was confirmed within a few days of her leaving the body. The Ashram authorities made a detailed inspection of the accounts of my department ranging over ten years to see if there were any discrepancies. Then one day when I went to the office of the Managing Trustee for some discussion, he asked me in front of another trustee whether Mother had given me any diamonds or jewels. "No, Mother has given me no diamonds or jewels." I gently replied.

They couldn't understand how I had money in the bank. If they had asked me frankly, I would have told them everything, but since they did not, I too said nothing. However, the Managing Trustee is said to have remarked that of all the accounts in the Ashram, the best

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kept were those of the Lake Estate and of the Department of physical Education.

It is needless to say that after Mother's departure, the white bag with my name written on a chit in her own hand was given to me. It also contained her own personal small things and several of my photographs. I have kept her last present, the bag, with great care. I continue to receive my weekly twenty-five rupees and on my birth­ days I still get an envelope containing the special sum that Mother had decided. Apart from this, I get twenty rupees a week for my motorbike. Some of my friends and well-wishers from among the devotees of Mother and Sri Aurobindo also give me money on my birthday. All this together enables me to spend some money whenever there is any necessity.

You may want to know what I do with the money. Well, I don't mind telling you. I am very fond of reading books - history, English and Bengali literature, descriptions of historic sites, forts and temples, etc. I have set up a small library of my own. I spend some amount on getting these books. On Sundays or holidays I go for long rides on my motorbike, that is another expense. I also spend some money on photography. Then sometimes, I help my students or brothers and sisters of the Ashram who need something, some special food or clothes, etc. Mother arranged things in such a way that I can spend money freely, as the need arises, without asking the authorities of the Ashram for money. What a fine arrangement indeed!

Speaking to you about this, I suddenly remember a story from my childhood. I was then about five or six. An old fakir-baba used to come to our house. Although he was a Muslim by birth, he was a devotee of Kali. He was a friend of my grandfather's. He would turn up unannounced, have his meals, rest awhile and then disappear as suddenly. Whenever he came, we young kids would

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crowd around him. He used to tell us many interesting and amusing things. He was very fond of children. From time to time, he would give us some coins with which we bought toffees.

If he came around our school-examination time, everyone asked him whether they would fail or pass. To some he said: "You'll pass." To others: "You'll fail." However, sometimes just the opposite happened. Then, when he reappeared all would crowd around him and ask: "What's this, fakir-baba? You said that fellow would pass and he failed, while this other chap you said would fail has passed. How did this happen?"

With a faint smile, fakir-baba used to say: "Oh, pass means fail and fail means pass." We would burst out laughing.

One day someone asked: "Tell us fakir-baba, where do you get money from?"

Fakir-baba did not answer, but went on talking. Suddenly he asked one of us: "Can you bring me a 'paisa'?"

The boy did as asked.

Fakir-baba held up the coin and said: "There, this is how I get it."

He used to really amuse us.

Then one day he came and went away. We never saw him again.

And so one day, as usual, Mother sat on her chair to rest and I lay down to take my nap. Mother made two or three rough sketches. Then one day on a large piece of paper Mother did the final sketch. Before finishing Mother told me: "Now you can open your eyes." After the picture was finished, Mother got a copy made for me.

It was a very beautiful portrait indeed! It shows clearly what a fine artist she was. At the request of a few friends of mine I have reproduced this drawing here.

Afterwards at the Playground, in the evening, Mother sketched most of her eight hand-maidens. In such a short time with just a few strokes of the pencil she was able to create the most beautiful portraits!

(107)

Auroville is being built according to Mother's plan, we are told. But long before Auroville started way back in 1945-46, Mother had told me that she wanted a beautiful place with the sea, hills and rivers. There men would live without egoism, aspiring for the Divine in order to fulfil the dream of "divine life". She had not yet called it Auroville. This was a dream of Mother's. There is also a writing of hers titled A dream.

Mother had many similar beautiful ideas. Mother would often speak of a huge ship of ours in which the entire Ashram could be accommodated. And we would sail all over the world on that ship and not be tied down to anyone place nor even to anyone country. The whole earth would be our country.

Mother added something more. She would have a house built whose walls would be transparent. Different colours would shine out from different rooms and glow through the walls. Depending on their state of being people would choose the room with the appropriate colour to stay in.

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