Moments Eternal

Memories

O Mother Maheshwari, Mother Mahakali, Mother Mahalakshmi, Mother Mahasaraswati!

Thus invoking Your Lotus Feet I set forth in my boat of memories…

What boundless joy a fleeting glimpse of the Mother would give us! How Her presence drew us like a magnet and kept us rooted to our seats for hours together in absolute stillness. These moments have become today a part of history. It is impossible to describe that marvellous experience when at Her radiant, unutterable touch an immortal stream of such exceeding peace would flow in each and every atom of our body. Only those who have been blessed with that divine Touch can truly and fully understand this experience. And this was a daily occurrence. We got to experience all this so easily, so effortlessly that I feel even gods and goddesses themselves must have been envious of us. The Mother Herself has come down onto this mortal world and opened up the treasure-trove of Her Grace. Now in these moments of leisure, every utterance, every gesture of the Mother overwhelms the heart with a memory of divine grace and beauty. In remembering Her, my entire consciousness sinks deep within my heart. At that time it seemed the most natural of thing, that life would go on in this way! When Mother Aditi Herself had descended upon the Earth, Her infinite Love would naturally be showered on us, Her children. This was our firm conviction.

With small children the Mother would Herself become a child. She would love them, tell them stories, recite humorous verses to divert them, to educate them. The Mother would reveal this aspect so beautifully when She used to take the children’s classes in the evening:

With my far-reaching Rays I illumine the universe

Yet do not forget the drop of dew

For Love within my Heart I nurse.

How true these lines of the poet are for the Mother!

The Mother showered Her infinite Love on all, young and old. In these pages my endeavour will be to recreate for you some of those moments. Personal references will keep coming in but that is inevitable in writing about one’s memories.

I will not be able to express the incredible joy that each of the Mother’s gestures evoked. Her way of talking, Her way of looking, in fact everything She did had such graceful beauty and tenderness, that even today it directs us to some distant, subtle world.

How can one forget the memories of those days? Why, you too have grown up in the shadow of the Mother’s Love. The Mother’s laughter, the Mother’s words have illumined your treasure-house of memories as well. Anybody who has received the privilege of approaching the Mother as a Mother, as a Friend, has had his whole life transfigured!

I remember the Mother taking Her French class with the children. The class was held in the courtyard of the house where the Mother and Sri Aurobindo had lived at one time. It was also the house where the first meeting between the Mother and Sri Aurobindo took place. In this children’s class, the Mother would start with a dictation. Then She Herself corrected the mistakes in all the notebooks. What tremendous concentration She put into that evening class. If a child was unable to recite some text She would slowly read it out for him. The children had to memorise a poem almost daily. I never saw the Mother get angry while teaching. We too, after all, are teachers! We loved the way the children sat on the floor and wrote their dictation. You must have seen photographs of this class.

There was a time when Dada (Pranab) garlanded the Mother in this courtyard before She started Her class. What a marvellous sight that was! How lovely the Mother looked! I cannot ever forget Her sweet smile. We would eagerly wait in a corner of the courtyard in order to watch the Mother being garlanded. I will no longer be able to see that incredible scene again. I feel bad just thinking about it. The lyrics of a song that one of my childhood friends used to sing with so much feeling and love come to mind:

What loveliness of form fills my eyes

And his lips adorned with that softest of smiles

Is it the beauty of the garland

Or is it the beauty of the neck,

That the garland sways in such happy abandon?

This kirtan is about Sri Krishna. I remembered this song every time the Mother was garlanded with flowers. And each time I was overjoyed. The Mother looked resplendent with the garland around Her neck. Such an event has never occurred in the earth’s history. The World-Mother being garlanded by Her son! I have been told that after finishing all Her work in the Playground, the Mother would go back to the Ashram and first offer this garland at Sri Aurobindo’s Feet. Those who have had the privilege of witnessing this marvellous scene are blessed. I am overjoyed just trying to imagine the scene. Mother Aditi Herself offering a garland of flowers at the Feet of the Supreme Purusha! And such an incident has taken place on our earth of ordinary dust. Blessed is our Mother Vasundhara and blessed are we human beings!

The Mother used to take the adult class as well, on Wednesdays and Fridays. On these two days, on waking up, the thought would immediately come: Ah today is the Mother’s class! And the heart would begin dancing with joy. The whole day unfolded in a sort of enthusiasm and joy just at the thought that we had the Mother’s class in the evening. I would try to imagine what the Mother was going to say that evening. Even today I cannot help thinking of those classes on Wednesdays and Fridays.

I remember a childhood scene. As soon as it was evening, we children would be fed by a masima (aunt) and each evening it was a different one. The rice would be mixed with a vegetable on a very large plate and then each child would be fed a morsel one after the other. And even as we ate, we listened to wonderful stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. What eagerness and excitement there used to be while listening to these stories. We would listen to the Mother’s words also with the eagerness and excitement of childhood. Even though the Mother did not always tell us stories we would listen to the Mother’s words of philosophical truth and advice with the same eagerness and feel as if we had understood everything. Such a sense of satisfaction there was, really!

The class with the bigger ones took place in the main Playground. A chair used to be kept for the Mother in front of the map of India that was made with green cement after the Mother had Herself drawn the outline of it on the wall. In the Mother’s vision this was the true map of India.

Everyone would ask the Mother all types of questions, especially the 16-17-year-old boys and girls. In fact the class had been started for them. Listening to the Mother, I would simply forget myself. The Mother had a natural flair for explaining the most difficult philosophical and spiritual subjects with such simplicity and in such an easy language. It is difficult to compare that joy with anything else. The Mother read out to the class the various books written by Sri Aurobindo and by Herself one after the other. Then She would ask:

“Has anyone got any questions?”

Then one by one She answered all the questions while we all listened with rapt attention.

*

Much have I loved with desires and longings

But by their deprivation now hast Thou saved me!

One day the Mother came and stood in front of the map of India to take the March-Past salute. I thought this was the right moment and so I told Her:

“Mother, they (Minnie-di, Millie-di) are going to Mahabalipuram. I too would like to go, Mother.”

“No, you can’t go,” the Mother replied. “You won’t go.”

I was quite stupefied on hearing this.

“why can’t I go, Mother? There are so many things to see in Mahabalipuram. Let me go with them, Mother.”

“No, you shall not go.” I just kept still.

“Look at me,” the Mother continued, “I stay here with all of you, have I gone anywhere?”

“But before coming here, you went to Russia and to

America,” I retorted.

The Mother was quite surprised.

“Who has told you that I went to Russia and America? I

have never been to America nor will I ever go there.”

She uttered the last part so forcefully that I was a little taken aback.

After some time the Mother continued:

“What will you do there? You will just spoil their fun.”

I was extremely perplexed by the Mother’s words. Why would I spoil their fun, I wondered.

The Mother explained:

“As soon as you reach, you’ll start complaining about a terrible headache or a cold. You’ll start feeling terribly feverish. They would have so much trouble with you. No, you shan’t go.”

I just stood silently, and suddenly I remembered something from my childhood.

When I was at school (Sarala Balika Vidyalaya) in Feni, Mejomasima — elder aunt — and Chhotomasima (younger aunt) — this is how we called our teachers — used to take the girls for an outing. Tapati and I could never go because we used to catch a cold or fever as soon as we went out anywhere. We were, as a result, absent from school for a few days. That is why father had given clear and strict instructions that we be forbidden to go on picnics. But how did the Mother get to know about this? The Mother knew every little detail even about our childhood, whereas I myself had forgotten! This instance of the Mother’s infinite Grace moved me very deeply. The Mother saved us in this way from innumerable dangers and difficulties and She continues to do so.

But by their deprivation now hast Thou saved me!

*

The Mother one day asked me to teach French at the School. I had just learnt a little French then. So it seemed absolutely impossible for me to take up teaching. However, I started the classes. My whole day was spent in preparing for my French classes. I had no time at all for reading my storybooks. Premanand, the Ashram librarian at that time, used to select the books for me to read. There were no sports activities then. After coming home from the meditation in the evening, I would enjoy reading my books.

At school and college I had not had so many opportunities to read storybooks. Father had strictly forbidden the reading of novels. Travelogues and biographies were fine. My schoolmates used to tease me:

“Don’t say that even Saratchandra’s books are out!” My elder brother came up with a ploy.

“Just open your textbook but keep your novel inside.”

In the evenings, after coming out of the Puja-Room, father used to ask my elder brother and me if all the lessons for the next day at school had been learnt. Then he would go to visit Jethamoshai (Headmaster Manindra Mukherji). There at Jethamoshai’s (elder uncle’s) house a large number of people would gather and discuss various things till almost 9 o’clock in the evening. During this gap I would read some books of Saratchandra’s with great pleasure. But then how many books could I read? There was also schoolwork to be finished. Dada would whisper:

“There! Father is coming back!”

At once the textbook was pulled out from under the novel and we would start studying seriously. Not once was I caught! Dada had some brains, I must admit.

One day I received a severe thrashing from Chhotokaka (yongest uncle) (Sachindranath Dasgupta). I had just gone to Calcutta after sitting for the Matriculation exam. A big house had been taken on rent. It was Chhotokaka’s wedding. I was totally engrossed in reading Pather Panchali near the verandah-door. I did not even notice that Chhotokaka had come in and was standing behind me. Then all of a sudden I got a slap on my cheek.

“What’s going on, Khuku? So you’re reading a novel, are you?”

I was quite startled. I had been caught red-handed! Then suddenly I had an idea.

“Look, Nelli-di (a cousin) got this book as a schoolprize.”

What could Chhotokaka say after that? He turned around and started walking up and down.

And so in this way, under father’s and Chhotokaka’s strict discipline, I completed my school-life. On entering college my first feeling was: “Ah, now I will be able to read novels freely and happily!” I had grown up after all. But there was a fly in the ointment. The Second World War broke out and it became difficult to buy textbooks let alone novels. Our mother (Bibhavati) would write down the lessons by hand in a notebook.

When I first came here in 1941, Mridu-masi (aunty)

showed me all her books and said:

“You can take any of these books to read, if you wish.”

It was as if I had been given the moon. I first picked up a novel, Sandhaney written by Jyotirmala Devi. Its language was so clear and beautiful and the story marvellously well-constructed. Then I read other books by the same author. After that I started reading Dilip-da’s books. But then it was time for me to go back to Feni. There I did not get such an opportunity to read novels again.

In trying to prepare the French lessons I had no time to read novels. In the mornings I worked at the press. Mid-mornings I had to rush to the French class. In the evenings I had to correct the students’ notebooks. I was really exhausted. Besides, I did not know enough French and so I had to really prepare very well. I myself needed to study systematically.

One day, on finding an opportunity, I told the Mother in the Playground:

“Mother, I don’t want to teach at the school. I hardly know any French. Moreover, I don’t get any time to read novels.”

The Mother went on looking at me, quite astonished. Then She said:

“What will you get from reading novels? I don’t encourage reading novels. It is only to improve your language that you can read a few books, especially those parts that contain some beautiful thoughts or have a beautiful style of writing. It is only for improving the language that books should be read.

“Why don’t you want to teach at the school?” She raised Her voice a little. “If you teach at the school, then your French also will improve. The more you teach the more your knowledge will grow. Tu es très timide (You are very shy). That is one more reason why I have asked you to teach in the school.”

Before I could reply, the Mother said a little forcefully: “Mère a donné le travail, il faut le faire.” (The Mother has given the work, it must be done.)

She would give me a special flower called Calm and modest confidence in oneself.

As soon as I realised my stupidity I slipped out from there. I did not get any other opportunity to read novels. Today, as I am writing about all this, I feel that it was the Mother’s Grace that I did not get the opportunity to read all sorts of useless books. It was natural that I had this curiosity to read novels at that young age. But how many children get to select the right kind of books to read?

Allow me to quote some advice given by the Mother on this subject.

Many years later, we started the Free Progress System in our school. There was a lot of excitement in the air. The Mother spoke to the teachers about the selection of novels for students. She said:

There should be very few novels in the school library (the students read only too many novels), and no modern novels unless they are of particularly good quality.

Literature has its place in the ‘Bibliothèque Choisie’, so that the students can learn what literature is.

The most important thing to be taken into consideration when selecting books, is the quality of the language and style, something ‘splendid’ as in Flaubert.

It is now that I understand how right from our childhood the Mother guided us without our knowing it: what books to read, how to stay away from life’s errors and pitfalls, how to seek Her protection.

In April 1944 I came to the Ashram for good. In those days a time was allotted to each one to go to the Mother. I had permission to go and see Her twice a week. And even today I can feel within my heart that thrill and joy. The whole week would go in preparing for that moment. I used to feel a strange kind of fear-tinged faith while going to the Mother. One day I blurted it out to the Mother:

“You know, Mother, I strongly feel like coming to see you but I also feel a strange kind of fear and excitement. Why is that, Mother?”

The Mother was probably not expecting such a question. She gently put Her hands on my shoulders and looked at me with Her love-filled, steady eyes. A heavenly love and tenderness flowed from them. Then She held me really close to Her. And from that day slowly a sense of friendship grew with the Mother. And the clouds of fear began dissolving under the sunrays of Her soft, gentle smile. And this is how I was initiated into my new life. It was impossible for me to speak to the Mother freely. I would keep thinking: “I have just arrived. I am totally new to this place.” At that time no one really spoke with the newcomers. Nolini-da was the only person who understood me. Why, even girls of my age did not speak much! That is how life was in the Ashram of those days. It was like coming to the first class in a new school. At least that is how I felt. And when I went to the Mother I would feel Her so exalted, so distant that I felt helpless. But then a strong attraction like a magnet would draw me to the Mother. Hardly had I entered Her room that She would greet me: “Bonjour, mon enfant” (Good morning, my child), and then lovingly give me a flower. She would keep smiling as she looked at me but I just could not forget that the Mother was that very Mahashakti (Supreme Power) that governed this world and the universe. The Mother strove to teach me to be simple and free but I was always in awe. I always felt that I was a most ordinary girl from a little town called Feni. And I just could not get over my diffidence. Suddenly, one day, I entered the Mother’s room and involuntarily exclaimed: “Bonjour, Douce Mère!” (Good morning, Sweet Mother!) But then immediately afterwards I felt a little ashamed.

The Mother hugged me happily and said:

“There! You’ve spoken! That’s very good, very good!” And in this way the wall of diffidence crumbled with that ‘Bonjour’. And in time a close friendship grew with the Mother. There was no incident that I did not freely speak to the Mother about. In time we felt that the Mother was our Friend forever.

And that unearthly joy has no parallel.

Once in the earlier part of my life in the Ashram, the

Mother told me while giving me a flower:

“Every morning, read a little bit of Sri Aurobindo’s book The Mother. Just as in India people read the Gita in the morning. You make the same kind of inner progress by reading The Mother as you do by reading the Gita. Read it regularly every morning.”

I did not quite have the capacity to understand the Mother’s advice then. I just kept staring at the Mother in speechless amazement! My whole body thrilled with delight. I was capable of experiencing a little the Mother’s being Adishakti and Maheshwari. But the Mother Herself indicating to me who She was! This experience I cannot convey. A supernatural sort of feeling overwhelmed me. After reading the sixth chapter of The Mother I understood why I used to feel a fear-tinged faith and love when I met the Mother.

By being with us the Mother slowly removed all diffidence and shyness from us. Thanks to Her happy indulgence we became courageous. The Mother had so ingrained the idea that She was our Friend that we used to speak freely to her about all sorts of things, sometimes even forgetting that we were but ordinary human beings. There was no secret that we did not happily share with Her. In fact there was no way we could hide anything from Her. One had to go to the Mother and something from within would automatically tell Her everything. What a marvellous situation to be in! When everything was spoken out then the inner ‘I’ would automatically fall silent. The Mother would smile sweetly and envelop us in Her divine Compassion. Then She would place some flowers in our hands and look at us for a little while. We would feel blessed by the benediction of Her eyes. After confiding in Her all our difficulties and obstacles, we would get a welcome respite from them. The Mother always told us: “Never forget for a moment that you are my much-loved children.” Helped by the Mother’s indulgent Love, a new wondrous consciousness began to take shape within us. Year after year, how much time, love and infinite patience the Mother lavished on us ordinary little boys and girls so that our personality would develop and grow! How She used to speak to each one of us according to our receptivity and understanding. How She educated us and surrounded us with Her support and sympathy! We could not do without the Mother in moments of difficulty. Today when I think about all these things my eyes, for no reason, fill with tears. The Mother saw in each of us a person or being who far excelled his or her outer personality and She would pour on us Her infinite Patience and Compassion to bring this out and that would take us forward slowly day by day. There was no end to that progress. With joy bubbling over in our hearts we would advance, surpassing mountain-like obstacles. Holding Her hand, we effortlessly overcame all pain, sorrow, suffering and disease. The Mother was there, what needed we fear, then? We just had to call out to Her, but call Her with all our heart: “Ma, Ma, Ma.” The Mother Herself had taught us even this secret of calling out to Her in either pain or peril.

Once my eyes were paining considerably. I told the Mother about it. She went in and got some blue water. Then She taught me how to put the medicine in the eyecup and wash my eyes and even while doing this to call out, “Ma, Ma, Ma.” To hear the Mother Herself saying “Ma, Ma, Ma” filled my heart with an extraordinary joy. That Mantra of the Mother has remained with me ever since. Why, even in dreams when we faced a danger, at once we called out, to the Mother or should we say someone from within called out “Ma, Ma”. This strange experience happens to each one of us even today. The Mother has not left us. This calling “Ma” for help is its living proof. We cannot see Her with our physical eyes which brings us great sorrow.

In the sacred presence and love of the Mother a new ‘I’ has taken birth. Our new ‘I’ is full of self-confidence and always says, “I shall try. I shall most certainly make myself worthy of the Mother’s trust.” In each one of us there abides an infinite Power and once man wakes up to it there is nothing that is beyond his capability. The Mother has not ceased to work for the awakening of that new person within us.

So many memories of my life in Feni come to me. Even in those days there were many facilities for sports and theatre in that small town. Father himself used to look after these activities. In the college gymnasium we had all types of body-building equipment. There was a huge ground where we could even practise athletics. There was a football field and a tennis court. Teachers and students played tennis together. In wintertime we would all sit together after the game and eat oranges. As we little ones picked up the balls, we were entitled to a share of the oranges. Badminton was played on four or five courts. We would all spend the evening together in great fun and merriment. And what to say about the football tournament time! On days when college and school students had their football matches there was excitement in the whole town. When a goal was scored, at once cries of ‘Goal! Goal!’ rent the air and how the boys would dance, their chests thrust to the sky! We little ones would scream of ‘Goal! Goal!’ whenever the school students scored. The funniest part of it all was one night when our elder brother, Saroj, kicked his leg in sleep and yelled ‘Goal! Goal!’ The whole town of Feni got all charged up during the football season.

There were also arrangements for playing hockey and cricket. Father used to play these two games with the boys. What exciting games there would be in the afternoon! When father joined the game the boys would play with a lot of gusto. Father also played tennis very well. When the Mother started playing tennis here, on father’s birthday (11th July 1948) She invited him to come and play a game with Her. She told Tapati and me:

“Both of you, come to the Tennis Ground. I’m going to play tennis with your father today.”

We were both delighted. We went to the Tennis court and sat next to Vasudha. Father played beautifully that day. He had this opportunity of playing with the Mother for a few days. Later, he got so busy with the work at the Press that it was no longer possible for him to be at the tennis court by four o’clock. Work for father was tapasya.

Father himself taught acting to college students. He would enact every character’s part to show how it was to be done. He was extraordinary. The day the final performance was to take place, father became unbelievably busy. He directed everything, including how the screens and the stage were to be set up. He would also do the make-up for each actor and help them dress. I have seen father work hard, silently, hour after hour. We little ones were allowed to go everywhere and that is why we could judge father’s amazing acting ability. It is very rare to come across such a talented artist. Manoj and Arati acquired their acting ability from father.

Father’s acting as Savitri suddenly comes to mind. In our uncle’s house (Niyogi’s house in Patgram) for every puja my uncles along with others would enact a play. Rehearsals would go on for many days. On one occasion a play based on the story of Savitri and Satyavan was selected. Father was given the role of Savitri. In those days boys used to take female roles as well. Savitri is speaking to the lord of Death, Yama: “You have to give back Satyavan to me.” I was not old enough to understand the dialogue between Savitri and Yama. But father and Moni-Mama (Subodh Niyogi) played their parts with such extraordinary skill that a deep impression was made on my young mind. When the mother gave me Sri Aurobindo’s Savitri on one of my birthdays, I suddenly remembered that scene and the dialogue between Yama and Savitri… I now had the opportunity of reading the dialogue between the lord of Death and Savitri in Sri Aurobindo’s Savitri.

Father was very capable in all kinds of ordinary jobs as well… gardening, looking after fruits and vegetables were daily activities. He even grew potatoes extensively in his garden. The house was filled with flowers and fruits. He would mix the soil himself, prepare the compost and even water the trees. He was truly a hard-working man. He would climb on top of the roof and lay the thatch along with the workers; he would chip and polish bamboo to make fences. The workers were thrilled to see father working with them and they would praise him highly. He was even capable of mending shoes!

When he sat down to read or write he was a completely different man. He would read with such total concentration that we would forget that father was at home. At college, while teaching he would pace up and down on the platform. He could explain the most complex problems of philosophy so simply that the students would listen to his discourses in rapt attention. Father had an inborn gift for discourse. That is why the philosophy classes were so interesting. His vast erudition and his skill in work had made his life supremely successful and complete.

An amusing incident comes to mind… One day Sri Aurobindo told father: “Naren, start doing yoga.”

Father was still quite young then. All that father knew about yoga was that after leaving all earthly preoccupations one sat in meditation with eyes closed. Father said to Sri Aurobindo:

“I want to do that type of yoga which helps in transforming earthly and worldly things, a yoga-sadhana where we don’t need to abandon anything.”

Smilingly Sri Aurobindo looked at father for some time. Then he gently answered:

“Oh, I see.”

Father was also good at drawing. He had filled a whole notebook with all kinds of portraits of gods and goddesses and people. That notebook is, unfortunately, lost… On the table in father’s puja room there used to be a painting of the Mother’s Feet done by him. The Feet had anklets and in front of them there were some lotus flowers. It was exceedingly beautiful. Just looking at that painting the heart would overflow with love for the Mother. When I came here for the first time I had the privilege of a Darshan of those Feet of the Mother during the evening Pranam on the first day. The Mother’s Feet, I saw, were indeed adorned with broad anklets.

Father’s painting of the Mother’s Feet has also been lost.

Those Feet and the lotus flowers were a lovely example of the gifted artist’s work.

Father was a most loving and affectionate human being. That is why he never wanted to become an Ashramite all by himself, leaving behind his brothers, sisters and us. When Chhoto-kaka was working as a college professor in Feni, in the evening father would pat his little brother and tenderly ask:

“Sachin Das, what are you reading?”

Like a little boy, he would show father the lessons he was preparing. Every evening, father used to give him some new things to read. At that time Chhoto-kaka was preparing for the Indian Civil Service exam. At the same time, father’s attention was focused on the Mother’s and Sri Aurobindo’s Feet. Even now I can almost hear his calling out every night with all his heart, “Sri Aurobindo... Sri Aurobindo.”

He was engaged in sadhana from the very beginning of his life. He used to write about his experiences to Sri Aurobindo and had the privilege of first coming here in 1925. In those days, Sri Aurobindo would spend some time with the sadhaks, discussing their sadhana and giving them advice. Father kept notes of all those valuable conversations with Him. Father never talked about his realisations in sadhana or even referred to the conversations he had had with Sri Aurobindo. Manoj discovered this notebook by accident while arranging his cupboard full of books. How many letters from Sri Aurobindo have been lost! During my father’s time matters related to sadhana were never talked about. He never told anybody about any of his experiences. Towards the end of his life he surprisingly came out with an experience or two. On 11th July 1994, on the occasion of his centenary, Manoj read out some things from that notebook. It was just marvellous!

*

I had just come to the Ashram. When I received news of my passing the exam, I ran to the Mother. Oh, I was so happy!

“Mother I have passed the exam!” She held both my hands and said:

“Go to Benjamin tomorrow. You will start learning French with him. He is a wonderful teacher of French pronunciation.”

The Mother had in a flash organised everything. And that is how I began my French lessons. I went to Benjamin the following day. Benjamin was a Tamil gentleman, a sweet, humourous sort of man. As he sat down to teach he said:

“Repeat exactly whatever I say, even if you don’t understand.”

He started with: “Sans le Divin, la vie est une illusion douloureuse. Avec lui tout est félicité.” (Without the Divine life is a painful illusion, with the Divine, all is bliss.)

I kept pronouncing the words exactly as he did and kept telling myself: “How will I remember anything without understanding?”

Mr. Benjamin said: “Now, let me explain.”

I stared at him, slightly perplexed.

“You’ll understand later,” he continued, “what an invaluable thought I have given you in our first French lesson.”

For many years now these words have come to my mind again and again:

Without the Divine, life is a painful illusion, with the Divine, all is bliss.

After remembering the words of the Mother that Benjamin had taught me, I suddenly recollect a great change that took place in my life. I was very young then, hardly nine or ten. One day, my elder brother who himself was eleven or twelve told me:

“You know these parents of ours are in fact not our real parents.”

I was slightly frightened and I retorted:

“Don’t say such things, Dada. It won’t do any good.” Then I asked him:

“Who are our parents then?”

“Father’s father, his father, then his father, again his father…,” my brother drawled on, “is there really an end to this?”

“Who is our real father, then?” I asked. Pointing his finger at the sky, he said:

“There, there our real father sits. God is our real father.” Hardly had he finished saying this that he began drawling

again:

“Mother’s mother, her mother, then her mother, again her mother,” then pointing his finger at the sky said:

“There sits our real Mother. The Divine Mother is our real

Mother.”

Listening to my brother, I was a little disheartened. “Then how can we meet out real parents?” I enquired. My brother, that young boy, spoke like a wise old man:

“By prayer. We need to pray everyday. Then one day we shall surely meet them.”

I looked at the open field and realised that evening had fallen. I felt terribly helpless. From that day I would stare at the open field in the evening, sit still and think about why we were born, what work the Divine Mother had sent us to the Earth for, why man suffered so much, where man went after death. Oh, so many questions! And they would all crop up at that time!

When I grew up and read Anandamath I found almost the same questions there. Almost every human being comes face to face with the question: “What is this life for?”

Right from childhood all these questions gnawed at me. There was no such thing as joy then.

I could not get any peace. Why have I come upon the earth? Why is man born? Where does he go after death? Why does man suffer so much? Why? Why? Why?

And then, quite unexpectedly, father brought Tapati and me to the Ashram in 1941, for the Darshan of 15th August, and I saw our Eternal Mother and Father sitting side by side on this earth of dust, the very ones that Dada had indicated in the sky with his finger.

During the Darshan, in a flash all thoughts and questions vanished. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother had filled my heart with deep devotion and love.

After the Darshan we went back to Feni. Every evening, I would sit silently facing the wide open field. Those questions continued to haunt me. As soon as evening fell I would begin to feel helpless.

In 1944 when I finally settled down here, the Mother offered me the “Nanteuil” house. There was nobody around. All the rooms were closed. Except for Ambu-bhai and two other people, nobody else stayed at “Nanteuil”. People did not go to meet anybody at any time. Everyone was busy with his or her work. After the evening meditation at the Ashram, I used to return to this big deserted house and sit on the outer staircase. World War II was on then. There was no light anywhere in the streets. Total darkness reigned everywhere. In such an atmosphere those same questions of my childhood would overwhelm my mind. I don’t know how long I would sit there in lonely silence. The mind felt burdened. One morning, when I went to the Mother to receive Her flower-blessings, She took both my hands very tenderly and spoke to me like a very close friend:

“Why do you sit and worry about all those things in the evening?”

And She started enumerating all my questions one by one. I was totally new to the Ashram then. I kept staring at her, a little bewildered. She also knows our questions and worries, thus I saw quite an unimaginable aspect of the Mother that day.

“Don’t think about all this,” the Mother continued, “Sri Aurobindo and I have come this time to protect you from the grip of all pain and sorrow. We will answer all your questions. Put all your faith in us and be happy. The responsibility is ours and Sri Aurobindo is there, I am there. What need you fear, then? Always remain happy. Fill yourself with ananda.”

Listening to these reassuring words from the Mother all those questions that used to eat me up from childhood dissolved into thin air in an instant. I looked at the Mother with tear-filled eyes. She placed the flower-blessings in my hands. I bowed to her with my heart full of gratitude and came back home.

I became an entirely new human being after this. I noticed that everything appeared wonderful to me! A huge transformation took place in my life on that day. Sri Aurobindo is there, the Mother is there: What need we fear, then? Bowing at their Feet I began a new life.

My elder brother had told me:

“The Divine Mother is our real Mother.”

Quite unexpectedly the truth came out one day from the

Mother’s own mouth!

One day, one of my friends scolded her little daughter. When the child went to the Mother she looked a little dejected. The Mother asked:

“What’s wrong with you, darling? Why are you so sad?” “My mother has scolded me,” she replied.

The Mother very affectionately gave her a lot of flowers and talked to her for a long time. The child’s little heart was filled with joy. When the child’s mother came to the Mother to receive the flower-blessings She told her:

“Please don’t scold children unnecessarily. They are my children. I have sent them to you. I am their real Mother.”

I was greatly perplexed after hearing about this incident. My mind flashed back to that evening in the field when I was sitting with my brother and he told me: “The Divine Mother is our real Mother”.

Who knew that from my brother’s mouth such a clear truth would be revealed? Children can feel deep within themselves a lot of things that we adults cannot even conceive. That is why the Mother loves children so much and has given them so much freedom. I learnt from the Mother Herself that She was indeed our real Mother.

*

I am suddenly reminded of a strange dream of mine. It was a long time ago. I had just arrived in the Ashram. The Mother had consented to my staying on in the Ashram.

The Mother used to ask me every morning: “What did you dream last night?”

I would narrate to Her my dreams one after the other. From time to time, the Mother would explain something. She would not let me go until I had finished telling her all my dreams and I too would go on persistently like a good girl.

Here is one dream: One night, while I was sleeping I felt a terrible pain right in the centre of my chest. I saw the Mother putting Her hand into my chest and with intense concentration twisting her fingers as if She were unscrewing a bottle. I began screaming with pain and told Her:

“Stop, Mother, stop, it hurts! What are you doing? Ah! It really hurts!”

But the Mother was deeply absorbed and untiringly, with great patience, She went on, Her hands inside my chest, operating like a surgeon. I just could not remove the Mother’s hands and kept crying helplessly…

I woke up. First, there was that fear of the patient at the time of an operation and then I was surrounded by that feeling of relief and rest when it is over. I still felt a little angry with the Mother. But then look at this! When I went to the Mother the following morning and She held me tenderly and asked me about my dreams of the previous night I just burst out crying!

The Mother kept telling me:

“Softly, softly! Sri Aurobindo is in the next room.”

But I just could not stop. Then, slowly, I managed to tell the Mother about my dream. She smiled gently and said:

“That wasn’t a dream. That was a true happening. I was working inside you. I work like this inside everybody. The part that does not want to receive or is slightly closed, I open it in this way, exactly as you’ve experienced. You know, every night I go to each person. And as you watch pictures in a film, I can see, all that happened in the Ashram and what each one did during the whole day.”

I kept staring at the Mother, quite stunned. On seeing me the Mother started laughing so much that her eyes glistened with tears.

And so in this way, day and night, the Mother in Her

Mahasaraswati aspect goes on labouring untiringly.

In this context a very amusing incident comes to mind. One morning, a young person from our group went to receive flower-blessings from the Mother. While giving him the flowers the Mother remarked:

“I know everything that you do each day.” The boy could not believe his ears.

The Mother kept looking at the boy and told him, one after the other, all that had happened. Then She started describing a certain incident and the boy just ran away.

Even now the Mother visits us at night and She saves us from great perils and difficulties. She is truly our Friend in times of danger.

In the evening, at the Playground, the Mother used to read out Sri Aurobindo’s The Mother. Once, a question was put to Her about the line: “The youngest of the four…” The question was: “Sweet Mother, why is Mahasaraswati the youngest of the four?”

The Mother answered:

Because her work came last; so she came last. (Silence) It is in this order that they manifested, in the order given here. These aspects are like the attributes of the Mother, which manifested in succession according to the necessities of the work; and the necessity of perfection was the last, so she is the youngest.

“All the work of the other Powers leans on her for its completeness....”

Mahasaraswati. Yes, because she is… (silence) precisely the goddess of perfection. For her everything must be done down to the last detail, and done in an absolutely perfect way. And she wants, she insists that it should be done physically, totally, materially, that it should not remain in the air, you see, like a mental or vital action, but that it should be a physical realisation in all its details, and all the details be perfect, that nothing be neglected. So all that the others undertake in the other domains she concretises and brings to its material perfection.

It is quite amazing even to imagine that during Durga-puja the Mother used to come down bringing Durga with Her. On Lakshmi-puja day She would come to the Meditation hall along with Lakshmi. And then on Kali-puja day Mahakali came with the Mother. On Mahasaraswati-puja day the Mother came down in Her aspect of Mahasaraswati. We were able to have the Darshan of these different aspects of the Mother without having to make any effort.

When the Mother would read Sri Aurobindo’s The Mother and explain to us in Her simple, clear way about each of Her Powers, we were overcome by a strange experience. Mother Adishakti was describing Her own different Forms to Her children. We could do nothing but stare at Her with unceasing wonder.

Arjuna’s fortune lay in finding out from Krishna himself who He was. We were born with that same good fortune. How many questions have been put to the Mother about Sri Aurobindo’s The Mother, about every power of the Mother! With exemplary patience has She always answered all these questions.

In the Gita the Divine revealed Himself to Arjuna in the form of Sri Krishna and showed him his way of working. While studying The Mother, the Mother Herself, the One Eternal Mahashakti, explained to us so clearly Her various Powers of realisation and their working. Sri Aurobindo has revealed to us in such detail who She really is in His book:

The four Powers of the Mother are four of her outstanding Personalities, portions and embodiments of her divinity through whom she acts on her creatures, orders and harmonises her creations in the worlds and directs the working out of her thousand forces. For the Mother is one but she comes before us with differing aspects; many are her powers and personalities, many her emanations and Vibhutis that do her work in the universe. The One whom we adore as the Mother is the divine Conscious Force that dominates all existence.…

Four great Aspects of the Mother, four of her leading Powers and Personalities have stood in front in her guidance of this Universe and in her dealings with the terrestrial play. One is her personality of calm wideness and comprehending wisdom and tranquil benignity and inexhaustible compassion and sovereign and surpassing majesty and all-ruling greatness. Another embodies her power of splendid strength and irresistible passion, her warrior mood, her overwhelming will, her impetuous swiftness and world-shaking force. A third is vivid and sweet and wonderful with her deep secret of beauty and harmony and fine rhythm, her intricate and subtle opulence, her compelling attraction and captivating grace. The fourth is equipped with her close and profound capacity of intimate knowledge and careful flawless work and quiet and exact perfection in all things. Wisdom, Strength, Harmony, Perfection are their several attributes and it is these powers that they bring with them into the world, manifest in a human disguise in their Vibhutis and shall found in the divine degree of their ascension in those who can open their earthly nature to the direct and living influence of the Mother. To the four we give the four great names, Maheshwari, Mahakali, Mahalakshmi, Mahasaraswati.

The Mother opened Her doors wide to all Her children. Young or old, everyone would wait at the Playground to listen to Her words with an eager heart. Even those who did not understand French would be present to have the Mother’s Darshan, to hear Her unearthly sweet voice. Devotees and disciples from far-off countries would also come to the Playground on the day of the class and sit quietly. The Mother was everyone’s friend, everyone’s dearest friend, She was everyone’s Mother: this was experienced by many of us here and in many parts of the world during those days.

Here, an extraordinary experience of the Mother when she was thirteen comes to mind. Every night that little girl would go out of her body, go out of her city and keep mounting very high in the sky. She wore a very beautiful golden gown. This gown was much longer than the Mother and quite big. And the more the Mother mounted skywards, the more the gown would cover the space all around her in a circle. It was as if a huge roof had been laid over the city. Then the Mother would see people converging from all corners of the city to assemble under this shelter; girls, children, old men and women, the sick and the miserable. And they would ask her for help and tell her about their sorrow, suffering and unbearable pain. The Mother’s gown would spread in a living way and provide solace to each one of them. And by their merely being touched by the Mother’s gown they would feel reassured, consoled and they would regain their health. They would re-enter their bodies much happier and much healthier than before. This marvellous experience every night made the Mother extremely happy. She did not feel so enthused by any other activity.

We can guess from this incident how liberally the Mother spread her love and tenderness over the multitudes of the earth.

*

The Mother’s mother once got a little chair made for her. On this chair the Mother would sit for hours in solemn silence. It was undoubtedly an astonishing thing for a little girl to do. Nobody could understand, looking at her, why this tiny little girl was sitting so solemn-faced. What was she thinking about? One day her mother ended up asking:

“What’s the matter with you? Why do you keep sitting with such a serious face? It is as if the world’s entire burden is weighing on your shoulders!”

That little girl answered with the same seriousness:

“Yes, indeed, I have to take upon myself this earth’s full burden of suffering. That is why I am so serious all the time.” That little girl, our little Mother, sits throned today as the Universal Mother amongst us. And whenever we call her from our depth of pain and suffering, she responds at once. Even little children would rush to her to somehow convey to her their sorrow and the Mother would understand them perfectly

even though they could not yet speak.

Once a cousin of mine went to the Mother with a five or six-month-old boy. The baby was in Manoj’s arms. As soon as they approached the Mother, the baby started crying, crying so soulfully that my cousin, her mother and Manoj were terribly embarrassed. It seemed that the baby, incapable of speech, was trying desperately to say something to the Mother. He had understood at once that the Mother was his only true sympathiser, his truest friend and one to whom he could say everything even without speaking. The Mother understood his complaint perfectly well and handed him a red rose. She showered him with her tender caresses. As soon as he received the Mother’s touch and the rose he immediately quietened down. And in this way all our lives have been linked with the Mother’s golden string: innumerable lives strung together on a single string.

*

Every year the 3rd year students of ‘Knowledge’ passing out of school used to meet Nolini-da. They would bow down to him before starting a new phase in their life. Nolini-da would tell them some very beautiful things. What lovely discourses these used to be! Once he spoke to them about the true meaning of the ‘golden chain’:

Mother said many times: “Whoever gets my touch, whoever has a second of true aspiration, true love for me, he is finished for this life, for all lives—he is bound to me. I have put a golden chain round his neck, his heart is bound eternally to me.”

Nolini-da explains:

It is a thing nobody can see, you yourselves don’t see; but it is a fact, it is there. The golden chain is there within your heart. Wherever you go, you drag that chain, it is a lengthening chain. How far you may go, it is an elastic chain, it goes on lengthening, but never snaps. In hours of difficulty, in hours of doubt and confusion in your life, you have that within you to support you. If you are conscious of it, so much the better; if you are not conscious, believe that it is there. The Mother’s love, Her Presence is there always.

This chain is the Mother’s love, Her presence in each and everyone. In times of pain and sorrow, in times of turmoil in our lives the Mother’s love gives us strength to fight the battle, gives us faith. This is the Mother’s infinite friendship, Her inexhaustible love for everyone. That is why I repeat once more: The Mother is our Mother, the Mother is our friend, everyone’s friend.

The Mother loves us, loves all human beings and trusts them. By taking support of this power of the Mother’s trust a new ‘I’ takes birth in us. The ‘I’ that used to stumble and fall at every step suddenly starts changing by coming in contact with the Mother’s infinite love and friendship. It is such a mysterious thing.

He who can, can in this way,

He can make the flowers bloom.

The Mother has entered the dense darkness of our mind and with Her golden wand of love awakened the sleeping ‘I’. Slowly our self-confidence begins to increase. After that whatever the Mother asks us to do, our new ‘I’ says: “I will try with all my heart and soul. I will surely be worthy of the Mother’s trust.” How many complaints about us would reach the Mother’s ears! The Mother used to repeat these to us with her sweet smile. She just would not believe those allegations.

“You know,” she would say with a laugh, “how many letters come to me with complaints and reproaches against me! One day I’ll show you those letters. Don’t be troubled or upset by these small things. Make yourself large. Imagine you have become as large as your room. Then make yourself even larger. Become as large as this town. Spread yourself into every being. Love them all. Spread your ‘I’ to the farthest corner of the world.”

The heart would be filled with awe, joy and gratitude. Our inner being would humbly bow down to the Mother. This is how we can make everyone our own, through Love! And we did not even know this!

Here I remember another incident. The Mother used to stand at about noon at the lower landing of the staircase. We would all be sitting in the hall. From halfway down the stairs she would throw toffees to everyone. One, two or sometimes three together! The time for this toffee-throwing to the younger ones was not fixed. At times it would occur as late as half past one. Madhuri and I would sit near Nolini-da’s room and wait, memorising little poems. It will not be out of place to quote one such poem here:

Conflict, malice all around,

An end it seems cannot be found

If only you forgiveness find

Tranquillity will fill your mind.

This is what I have learnt from the Mother:

Love one and love them all,

Then from your being all rust shall fall.

When I was studying in a higher class Sri Aurobindo’s The Ideal of Forgiveness was one of our Bengali texts. I loved the story and would keep on wondering how one can forgive one’s enemy in this way! The description that Sri Aurobindo has given of Sage Vashishtha’s character touched our young hearts very deeply indeed. How can a man be so vast! Sage Vashishtha loved Vishwamitra, forgave him and won him over. Our being too, by reading this writing of Sri Aurobindo, would become vast and fill with ananda. It was from then that an irresistible eagerness to know Sri Aurobindo was born in us.

This same divine love and forgiveness lay at the root of Sri

Chaitanyadev’s transformation of Jagai and Madhai’s nature.

With thy pitcher thou hast hit me

For that, shall I not love thee?

I still remember the film Sri Chaitanyadev I saw as a child at a cinema hall. It was then that this seed of love and compassion was sown in a young girl’s inmost consciousness. We have seen this same film here at the Ashram a couple of times, sitting next to the Mother. While watching the film I would sometimes look at the Mother.

Even while the Mother guided us to the new life She also taught us how to forgive human pettiness and baseness.

With Compassion Thine

My life I’ll cleanse.

How clasp Thy Feet

Without that Grace immense?

*

Two memorable incidents of my life occurred on my birthday in 1948.

I had for a long time wanted to get some sweets made and offer them to the Mother. Our mother (Bibhavati) used to often make sandesh and take them to the Mother. On this birthday, with the help of a friend, I got some sweets made from carrots. This friend’s work was always perfect. Nobody could arrange a plate like this girl,—with all the different items that were prepared in the Mother’s Kitchen for Her. On special days she would be called to arrange the Mother’s meal. She placed the carrot-sweets in such a beautiful way that I was thrilled.

I took that plate of sweets to the Mother and very shyly offered it to Her. Probably sensing my timidity and hesitation, the Mother took the plate from me with both her hands. She was most happy and exclaimed:

“Bibha must have arranged this for you.”

I was flabbergasted. How did the Mother know? I nodded my head:

“Yes, Mother. It’s Bibha. She does it so beautifully and with so much care!”

The Mother went on looking at the beautifully arranged plate for quite some time. It truly seemed as if flowers had bloomed from the plate. I had hardly said “yes” when the Mother picked up a sweet and started eating it. I was mesmerised. And thrilled no end. You just cannot imagine my joy.

But there was more to come. She ate, standing, and from time to time gave me a little of the sweet. I looked more closely and saw her face aglow with mischievous laughter. Asking me to wait, she went inside with the plate of sweets.

I stood outside and waited quietly. I suddenly remembered my acting in a play called Sudama. Isn’t it amazing how one thing reminds you of another?

I was only 12 or 13 then. We were staying at Feni where father was a college professor. Our group of friends decided to perform the play Sudama. I was given the role of Sudama. Tapati was to play Rukmini and one of her friends, Sri Krishna. The play turned out very well. On people’s request we performed this play several times.

In this play at one point Sudama is forced by his wife’s insistence to go to his childhood friend, Sri Krishna. He packed a few nadus (a simple rural sweet) in his chaddar (a piece of cloth to cover the upper part of the body) and very shyly walked into Sri Krishna’s royal court. All he had brought for his childhood-friend, Sri Krishna, were some nadus. As soon as he saw Sudama, Sri Krishna exclaimed:

“I am seeing you after ages, my friend. Where are the nadus

I love so much?”

In the midst of all the pomp and glitter, in the presence of the honourable prime minister and ministers, Sudama hung his head in shame. But because of Sri Krishna’s insistence he had to give the nadus.

Sri Krishna began eating those nadus with great relish while chatting about their childhood days.

Seeing the Mother enjoying those ordinary sweets reminded me of Sudama. I used to play the part of Sudama’s friendship with God with a lot of feeling and I felt a strange change within me. On this day I had realised the truth of Sudama’s character when I made the divine Mother taste those sweets. I could never have dreamt that She would receive those sweets with so much graciousness. This incon-ceivable incident of my life was indeed like Sri Krishna’s receiving the nadus from Sudama’s hands.

This is how Bibha describes this incident:

“On her birthday, Priti wanted to offer some sweets to the Mother and she came to me with carrots and almonds. I did not have any cooking facilities, though. However, I ground some carrots and almonds very fine and then I boiled them with some milk and laid the mixture out as we do when preparing sandesh. I shaped them like leaves and set them out on a glass plate. I used to arrange and decorate the Mother’s food in Her kitchen by making flowers and leaves with my hands. I was delighted to have been given this opportunity. There was one prayer within me: ‘Will She really eat?’ And then the news came that she had indeed eaten it.”

I was absent-mindedly thinking of all these things when I suddenly realised that the Mother was standing before me and gently smiling. I was a little embarrassed. I noticed a folded paper in her hands. She unfolded the paper and brought out a ring. She put the ring on my finger. When I used to go to the Mother in the evenings, while talking to me she would pull my fingers and remark:

“How thin you are. Such thin fingers you have!”

Now I understood that the Mother was touching my fingers to check the size for the ring She wanted to give me.

After putting the ring on, she smiled softly and said: “From today we have become the best of friends. A deep

friendship has been established between us.”

I had never imagined even in my wildest dreams that I would hear such words from the Mother Herself. My entire being was filled with wonder, ananda and gratitude.

The Mother was my friend. The Mother was our friend. I

remembered another incident from the past.

Every Sunday at about noon a sadhu used to come to our house with his little son to ask for alms. The little boy had a sweet voice and sang beautifully playing his ektara (a singlestringed instrument). Right at the end he would sing a song with great feeling:

Where are you, Friend,

You I cannot trace.

Where’s your country,

Your dwelling-place?

And the ektara played on in perfect rhythm. He sang this song soulfully in his melodious voice while looking up at the sky. And I would feel somewhat saddened by the song. My heart wandering with the song’s melody wept and my eyes travelled from field to field towards the distant horizon.

Who was this Friend? No doubt it was God that was meant, it was Sri Krishna. I was overwhelmed with happiness each time I heard the song. I used to give this sadhu and his little boy a lot of rice as alms.

“We’ll come back!”

And saying this, they would walk away across the fields. The strumming of the ektara would float on from faraway.

The lines from the song kept repeating in me.

Where are you, Friend?

You I cannot trace.

On the auspicious occasion of my birthday in 1948 I had traced my Friend forever.

The Mother is our Friend, She is everyone’s Friend, She is my Friend.

Everyone formed this friendship with the Mother. And as a sign of that friendship She gave many of us a ring: Gauri, Chitra, Millie-di, Vasudha, Minou, Tehmi-ben, Tapati and so many others. Many received other souvenirs from Her. We could not imagine that even without asking we would receive so much. And it was the Mother Herself who prepared this deep friendship. She would offer us the flower Friendship with the Divine almost everyday. This flower can be of two colours, one red and the other a deep yellow. The significance of the golden yellow flower is Supramental Friendship with the Divine. The Mother has revealed the significance of many flowers. Whenever she had this golden yellow flower she would give it to each one of us. Ah! You cannot imagine how the heart would overflow with joy. That one could so effortlessly become friends with the divine Mother Herself was beyond our dreams. Such an impossible dream had come true in our life.

In my childhood when I heard the stories of Prahlad’s or Dhruva’s friendship with God, a thousand questions would come crowding into my mind: Why can’t we see God? Why can’t we speak to Him as a friend? Why wouldn’t He come to us if we called Him like Dhruva or Prahlad?

The grown-ups would say:

“That’s not possible. In this Kaliyuga God does not show himself in this way.”

But our supreme good fortune is that the Divine Herself has come down onto this earth. Sri Aurobindo and the Mother have Themselves become our friends.

Sri Aurobindo’s wit and humour are so much in evidence in His Evening Talks. His conduct with His servitors and His children was that of a friend. And again this supreme gift that the attendants received from Him was possible only at this age. What satisfaction we derive just by reading these Talks!

Similarly, the Mother’s Entretiens or conversations give us the same sense of wonder.

In the Evening Talks Sri Aurobindo discussed different subjects with his attendants. For instance serious subjects such as politics, the independence of India, the Second World War, Hitler’s and Stalin’s personalities. But there were also other lighter but interesting conversations streaked with humour, laughter and fun. In his words you find not only the flow of seriousness and profound experience and erudition but also a cascade of glowing pearls of joy and laughter. I cannot help giving you two instances of this.

In Nirod-da’s Twelve Years with Sri Aurobindo I read about a most hilarious incident. One day Sri Aurobindo said a little mysteriously to his attendants:

“The subject is whether the measure of help is much or little.”

When they did not seem to understand this puzzling statement he decided to explain it to them.

During the Boer War, two Boer soldiers were fleeing on horseback. One of them who was short and stout fell off his horse. He vainly made a few attempts to get up. Meanwhile the enemy was fast approaching so he quickly prayed:

“O God! Please help me to get back onto my horse.”

And uttering this he jumped up. However as luck would have it, he leapt so vigorously that he fell over the horse to the other side! In the meantime the enemy approached and captured him. At that moment he complained regretfully:

“God did help but a little too much!”

Everyone burst out laughing. It is difficult to imagine Sri

Aurobindo recounting such a story with so much humour.

Now let me tell you about another such incident. This is about Sri Aurobindo Himself. You too will not be able to resist laughing.

We all know that in 1938 on the night of 23rd November at about 2 o’clock Sri Aurobindo slipped and fell and as a result of the impact broke his right femur. He was bedridden for three months. So naturally he could not wash his hair or even comb it. Lying in bed for three months in that condition, his long hair became all matted.

When after three months he could sit up again his matted hair could finally be unloosened. Shiva’s attendants began unknotting Shiva’s matted locks. Champaklal-ji and Nirod-da courageously attempted this arduous task. These two heroes then (who themselves did not boast of a great amount of hair on their heads) got down to business.

After about an hour of struggling, at last they managed to unknot Sri Aurobindo’s locks. Sri Aurobindo sat through this ordeal bearing it without once opening his mouth. Then he said softly in his quiet voice:

“You’ve left a few hairs on my head, I hope!” No one could hold his laughter.

I can picture this clearly. Sri Aurobindo sitting quietly like a good boy while Nirod-da and Champaklal-ji valiantly struggled to unknot his hair. What can be more amusing than this? These two incidents reveal how close and friendly Sri Aurobindo was with them.