The Mother : Contact
THEME/S
The first French class that the Mother started in the Playground used to take place on its eastern side in a small room. This was the same room where She gave interviews. In fact we called it the Mother’s Interview Room.
Pavitra-da’s laboratory was in a smaller room next to it. All the students of this class were grown-ups. We were about ten or twelve: Pavitra-da, Nolini-da, Amrita-da, Kalyan-da, Dayakar, Ranju, Amiyo and we five girls, Minnie-di, Millie-di, Tehmi-ben, Violette and I.
The Mother would come to the class immediately after finishing Her game of tennis. We had almost everyday a dictation. I had just begun the second book and so naturally I felt extremely scared of dictations. I would sit there like an idiot, a “Royal” pencil in hand, amidst all those pundits. While giving the dictation the Mother would repeat the whole sentence in her soft voice very slowly so that I could write. Out of fear I would be drenched in sweat. After reading the dictation She would take each notebook one after the other and attentively correct the mistakes Herself. My notebook was full of red marks. The Mother would look at me and gently smile as if to say: ‘Ink-stained hands, ink-stained mouth, why, my child has returned from school!’ I would keep my notebook in such a way that nobody could see it. After the dictation everyone had to recite poems. Even Nolini-da, Pavitra-da and Amritada had to do it. No one could escape this. And everyone got nervous in front of the Mother. I have recited a lot of poems before the Mother: Les Elfes by Le Conte de Lisle, Liberté by Paul Eluard, Booz Endormi, La Conscience by Victor Hugo, the famous poem Ballade de Florentin Prunier by Georges Duhamel and other poems by reputed poets. Minnie-di once recited a poem most beautifully in her sweet voice. We were all enchanted. Tehmi-ben, in her lovely voice, recited the very well-known poem by Paul Verlaine “Il pleure dans mon coeur/ Comme il pleut sur la ville”. The most mischievous of the lot, Amrita-da always brought the shortest poem to recite. His recitation would be over in no time! He would then heave a sigh of relief and look at the others and quietly smile. He was a great fun-loving man and was known for his joviality in the Ashram. Even when he spoke to the Mother, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. Let me recount one incident. In the Mother’s room near Her door there was a small area that was slightly raised. Almost everyone stumbled there. One day somebody suggested that this area be levelled off. The Mother objected, saying strongly:
“You should all be a little conscious.”
One day Amrita-da while coming into the room hit his foot very badly at this place. The Mother exclaimed:
“Amrita!”
Pat came the answer from his mischief-filled eyes: “Mother, just trying to be conscious!”
And everyone present there burst out laughing. The Mother Herself could not control Her laughter. This was our Amrita-da. And so naturally his presence made the French class most interesting and amusing.
The Mother would Herself read out each of the poems that were recited to Her. If only we could have recorded those poems in the Mother’s voice! It was only after listening to the Mother that I understood how words combined with music and rhythm in order to bring out the actual meaning of the poem.
In this French class, the Mother read out from works of Molière, Racine, Corneille, Anatole France. She enjoyed reading Révolte des Anges by Anatole France and Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand. She also read Andromaque, Le Cid, Les Femmes Savantes and other such works. We would just sit and listen entranced.
I remember an incident now. The Mother asked me to go to the board to write something. I started writing. When I finished, I noticed that my line instead of being straight was going upward. I was deeply embarrassed. Everyone else was laughing merrily. She told me very gently:
“C’est ton aspiration qui monte tout droit vers l’Infini.” (It is your aspiration that is rising straight towards the Infinite.)
This was the Mother’s way. She would never embarrass anybody. She always encouraged us at every moment. How She helped us to get rid of fear and diffidence from our nature!
Once while taking the dictation instead of writing vraiment I wrote vraiement. Pavitra-da started teasing me. I told the Mother: “In French it is with the feminine form of the adjective that the adverb is made.”
She called Pavitra-da and said:
“Now, great pundit, explain to her why you should write
vraiment.”
And the Mother went on looking teasingly at Pavitra-da. Pavitra-da just said:
“Priti, this is how it is written.”
I kept quiet. The Mother went on smiling at me and in order to console me said:
“I too used to make a lot of spelling mistakes.”
This was truly Mother’s way. Always encouraging us, giving us instances from Her own life, She took us forward. When I returned home I took up the French grammar book and studied very carefully the chapter on adverbs. Only then did I feel confident.
The most difficult thing for me was to be able to speak French without making any mistakes. The Mother would not talk to us in any other language.
Here I am reminded of an incident from Amrita-da’s childhood. He had grown restless to have the Darshan of Sri Aurobindo. He requested Bejoykant to take him to Sri Aurobindo. Evidently Amrita-da had already had the Darshan of the Master. Bejoykant (the same person who had come away to Pondicherry with Sri Aurobindo) replied that he would ask Sri Aurobindo and let him know. Four or five days later, Bejoykant told Amrita-da in the morning that he could have Sri Aurobindo’s Darshan that evening. Bejoykant accompanied Amrita-da to Sri Aurobindo that evening with a little hesitation. Sri Aurobindo was writing at that time. He left his writing and turned towards Bejoykant and Amrita-da to look at them. Amrita-da turned around and saw that Bejoykant was no longer with him. Amrita-da was all alone.
Sri Aurobindo went on looking at Amrita-da and Amritada lost himself in His eyes. He could not speak English very well then and so he was extremely nervous. He however tried to speak a little. The few words that he had learnt before coming to see Him also got stuck in his throat. Somehow he managed to blurt out:
“I want come daily see you.”
My condition in trying to speak French was a little like Amrita-da’s speaking English. I don’t know whether Sri Aurobindo laughed on hearing Amrita-da’s English but the Mother would often tease me while listening to me speak French. I would sometimes get almost angry with irritation. Two incidents come to mind.
One day I had very high fever and so I went to inform the
Mother. I blurted out in my wrong French: “Mère, j’ai du fièvre.”
As soon as She heard me say this She started teasing me. “J’ai du fièvre, j’ai du fièvre,” She went on repeating. She gave me a flower and once again repeated:
“J’ai du fièvre.”
On another occasion I blurted out:
“Ce livre appartient à moi.” At once the Mother took up the wrong sentence “appartient à moi, appartient à moi.” She repeated it in such a way that I felt very embarrassed. Her eyes glimmered with an unforgettable mischief. That look of Hers flashes in my memory even today like a living photograph.
*
The Mother was sitting with an open book and we all sat around Her, staring at Her intently in pin-drop silence. But within we felt a suppressed excitement. What is She going to tell us today? There was a table-lamp beside Her to illumine the book from which She would read. In a thousand rays its light had completely surrounded the Mother and was bowing down to Her. We waited quietly. Bathed in that cascading light the beauty of the Mother’s pure white body was incomparable.
All of us, young, old and adults, sat mesmerised by the Mother’s face. The Mother turned the pages of the book. Just the sound of shuffling paper. That is all. The creatures of the world were impatient to hear the Mother’s voice, so soft to the ears. Even the gods had come down to the Playground. They too sat in our midst. They too had never seen such a sight! The Divine Mother herself teaching Her human children! The gods too had never had Darshan of the Mother in a human body. That is why they would come down to be close to Her. I have also heard that in the evening when the Mother came downstairs to give us flower-blessings in the Ashram, the gods would gather in the Meditation Hall. The Divine Mother Herself had taken on a human body in order to descend into this dust-filled earth of ours. It was but natural for the gods to desire to have Her Darshan. After all, they never get to see the Mother like this. How fortunate we are then to be blessed with human life!
When the Mother read out “The Four Aspects of the Mother” from Sri Aurobindo’s book The Mother, we all just stared at Her face unblinkingly. While reading the descriptions of Maheshwari, Mahakali, Mahalakshmi and Mahasaraswati, She would bring down the Power of each one on to the Playground. Even Her voice would change for each of the four Powers. “Mahakali is of another nature. Not wideness but height, not wisdom but force and strength are her peculiar power.” While reading this part there was so much power and intensity in the Mother’s voice! The whole Playground reverberated with the sound of the Mother’s deep, grave voice. The Mother’s physical appearance changed too. Seeing Her then we felt like little ants. The ground was enveloped in a profound hush. Everyone, the young, the adults, the old, remained silent. What an enchanting atmosphere was created in these classes during those days!
Janani tomar maranharan bani
Nirob gaganey bhori uthey chupey chupey.
(Your voice that stamps out the fear of death, Rises and fills up the sky imperceptibly.)
Sometimes the Mother would give mischievous answers to our questions. On days when She was in a jovial mood, She recounted incidents from Her own life. We shall come to those stories a little later. Stories would come tumbling out of “grandma’s bag” [thakumar jhuli, a Bengali expression referring to a collection of enthralling stories for children]. Her bag was full of all kinds of stories. The more we heard these stories, the more we felt like listening to others. We would all push one another to sit as close as possible around Her. The Mother had a marvellous way of telling stories. It was in this class that She told us about Her time in Algeria where She had gone to learn occultism with Théon. She told us many stories from that time. Days just flew past…
Everyone wanted to join the Mother’s French class just to listen to Her and try to understand what She said. Sometimes the class would go on till nine o’clock. But She never got tired. She just went on talking and we just went on gleefully drinking it all in. Sometimes the subjects were subtle philosophical ones: the Mother would talk to us about death in such a simple language that even we, with our little minds, could naturally understand something.
Sometimes the Mother told us such amusing things that the whole Playground would resound with laughter; even those serious-minded “who were forbidden to laugh” could not control themselves and had cramps in their stomachs. The Mother laughed heartily too and enjoyed herself tremendously.
Nolini-da and Pavitra-da were always present in this class. The Mother used to look upon Pavitra-da as her young son. If there was any scientific thing to be explained in the class, She at once called Pavitra-da.
“Pavitra, O great pundit, would you kindly explain this question?”
And Her eyes would light up with mischievous glee. Poor Pavitra-da looked a little flustered in front of all his students and then he would start explaining seriously. He really got quite nervous. And we used to all enjoy the scene. How bottled up he looked then!
The Mother had a different relationship with Nolini-da— that of an elder son. One day there was an animated discussion on ‘purusha’ and ‘prakriti’. The younger ones were just not getting the idea.
I remembered how in my college days our philosophy professor had tried so desperately to make us understand the concept of ‘purusha’ and ‘prakriti’. The moment he mentioned
‘purusha’ and ‘prakriti’ we would immediately think of man and woman and start laughing! What on earth was the teacher trying to tell us?
I did not think that one day this same question would come up in the Mother’s class as well. I felt greatly frustrated.
The Mother avoided the question and sweetly asked Nolini-da:
“Nolini, why don’t you explain this to them simply. I don’t know anything.”
We all sat expectantly waiting to see how Nolini-da would explain it.
Nolini-da did not speak for some time. We just kept on looking at his face with uncontrollable curiosity. Then finally he said:
“If the Mother herself does not know then how can Nolini know anything?”
We were dumbstruck!
What an answer! Bravo! All these old sadhaks like Pavitra-da, Nolini-da, Amrita-da always had that attitude of great humility vis-à-vis the Mother. It was such an admirable trait in them. We have learnt so much from their beautiful conduct by keeping the goal of faithful love for the Mother always in mind.
The Mother kept looking at Nolini-da for a while. Love was overflowing from Her eyes.
Then the Mother herself explained the difficult concept of ‘purusha’ and ‘prakriti’ so simply and so beautifully that we could not believe it! And when we went on to read “The Divine Shakti” from Sri Aurobindo’s The Synthesis of Yoga I realised I had finally understood!
The Mother had a natural gift of being able to explain clearly in simple language difficult philosophical concepts and spiritual subjects. She used to teach us so many things with so much patience! Things that I had imagined I would never understand, I began following almost without my knowing. The Mother shaped us with limitless patience. She would tell us many stories from Her life. Those were the days when we received supreme lessons. I can still hear that marvellously soft, gentle voice of the Mother today. With words it is impossible to catch that blissful state we lived in under the beautiful musical cascade of that voice of pure sweetness. Those words articulated in that voice still resonate within me.
Kaaneyr bhitor diya mormey poshilo go
Aakul korilo mor praan.
(Through my ears they entered my inmost heart, And made my being hunger for yet more.)
After the lesson was over we would just sit there, as if stunned. You could say that a massive peace had come down on to the Playground. In that bright glow the Mother’s delicate beauty was indescribable: just Her sweet voice that continued to reverberate within us seeking our response. So many memories come up again and again to mind. After the lesson, the Mother would close the book and say:
“Come, let’s meditate a little, shall we?”
We all closed our books and sat still. As if we were champions of meditation! One by one all the lights were switched off.
During the fortnight when the moon was waxing, the Playground was enveloped in soft moonlight. The moon would bow to the Mother by encircling Her entire body. A little away the ashwattha tree in our house rustled and swayed. There too the gentle play of light and shade was visible on every branch and leaf. I looked up and noticed that everyone was absorbed in deep meditation. The roar of the sea wafted in from a distance. It felt like another planet. The heart never had enough of looking at the Mother. I felt as if I was living in some dream-kingdom. Looking skyward I felt as if the sky too was bending earthward, transfixed at the sight of the Mother. What an extraordinarily tranquil, gentle air! As if all earthly creatures were in a trance!
Stabdho aakash, neerob shashi robi,
Tomaar charonpaaney nayon kori nato
Bhubon daandiyey aachhey ekanto.
(The skies are silent, silent the moon and the sun, Their eyes fixed on Thy Feet,
While the world stands still in solitude.)
My eyes were fixed on the horizon while the sea breeze caressed our bodies. It was a godly hour.
The gentle breeze spread a sweet subtle fragrance from the Mother’s body. That very familiar fragrance again! Whenever we went to the Mother we returned with Her fragrance on us brought to us by Her loving touch. And this sweet fragrance would remain with us for the whole day at home. We always felt that the Mother was there with us. What a wonderful sensation!
Seeing the Mother in this form I remembered a song from my childhood:
Who says God has no form, who says God has no shape?
Let him wipe his eyes and see tonight.
See, O disbeliever, how glorious is my Mother’s form,
How at Her feet a million moons scatter their silver radiance!
I kept looking at the Mother, kept looking…God knows when I fell into this rapture, imperceptibly absorbed in meditation. Suddenly I felt there was nobody anywhere and I was sitting all alone. Where this place was I did not know. And then I would suddenly start and see everyone still deeply engrossed in meditation. I looked at the Mother and She too was in deep meditation. No, the meditation was not over yet! And in this way my own meditation would often be interrupted. What an amazing experience that was: by just staring at the Mother’s face a supreme trust would make my eyes close once again. What a joy to be sitting so close to the Mother!
The Playground looked different in the waning moon. As soon as the lights were turned off everyone seemed to be alone. The whole Playground would be covered in darkness. Looking up, I could see the stars blossom in the sky. The residents of the skies were watching the Mother. I felt as if someone was signalling to us from afar, calling us, as it were. Sitting near the Mother in this dense darkness, I felt that the Mother looked like someone unknown and unknowable. After all, the Mother has always been beyond human touch and holding. Hasn’t She come of Her own will down to the earth? And that is why we are blessed to be able to see Her.
I did not know that Darkness had so many forms. We have always looked upon Darkness as fearsome. The Mother is present in our midst, down here under the illimitable sky. Why fear the unknown, then? I remember some incidents from my childhood.
In the evening I would sit, the door open, and stare at the empty field that stretched out in front. Not a living creature anywhere around. My little mind, looking out into that boundless darkness, would be overcome with some kind of sadness. But due to some tremendous attraction of this dark earth I kept sitting on the staircase next to the door. That same darkness, that same night had slowly descended on to the Playground as well, but in place of sadness, peace would come into our mind and body. In the Mother’s presence everything was transformed into peace and we would slip into meditation. I felt as if I did not exist! Or that I had become just a point! What an astonishing experience that was! When I opened my eyes I saw thick darkness flooding all around the Mother. All of a sudden I felt: “Who are we sitting with?” The one described by a writer as “the one Refuge of all, Light of lights, Pace of all movement, Life of all life, Soul of all beauty” was for man and humanity but thick darkness. Was this due to an absence of form? What we cannot understand, cannot know, whose core we cannot penetrate for lack of a path, that is what we call darkness. That writer was unaware that the Divine Mother Herself and the Supreme Purusha would become visible to us in human form and we would be blessed. Despite being inhabitants of that distant realm they came down to this mortal world. They were no longer dense darkness to human eyes. With this massive discovery I started feeling a profound thrill of beatitude race through my mind and body.
The Mother used to read to us from Her Prayers and Meditations in the Darshan room usually after half past twelve. Wise, experienced sadhaks also joined us young immature girls and boys. Dada (Pranab) sat facing the Mother. Behind the Mother’s chair sat one of Her devoted attendants. All of us would sit facing the Mother, all around Her. The grown-ups sat behind us. The Mother used to answer all kinds of questions. I did not understand much. At that time I did not understand French at all. Moreover the subjects were all highly philosophical. One day, after the class when I went up to Her to receive flower-blessings I finally blurted out:
“Mother, I get a terrible headache after the class. Why is that?”
The Mother started laughing.
“You are not yet ready to understand all these philosophical concepts. I am getting new cells ready in your brain. Slowly you will understand everything. After the class, go home and quietly sit in meditation. With time the understanding will come.”
Today I feel like hearing these words from the Mother once again. Now when I read the Mother’s or Sri Aurobindo’s books I quite enjoy them. Now it is not as difficult as before. Mother Mahasaraswati with all Her skilfulness and artistry has shaped our minds and intelligence with exceeding patience, even without our knowing. How many different forms have we seen of the Mother’s ceaseless, untiring, ever-dynamic force of action! It did not seem unusual then. How else did we expect a Mother to look after Her children? Today I feel, it was the Mother herself who must have given us this sense of “right”, otherwise how could we have ever behaved with such impudence! Could such impossible things have ever occurred had the Mother not consented?
These classes that were held in the Meditation hall upstairs in fact had started in the Mother’s room. The Mother used to read from Prayers and Meditations there after ten. A large sofa was kept for the Mother near the cupboard one passes as one turns to go to Her second-floor room. The Mother would sit on this sofa and read out the prayers. We had been dreaming about hearing the Mother read the Prayers and Meditations to us. We kept telling one another:
“Ah, if only the Mother would invite us one day to read
Prayers and Meditations!”
And in that anticipated joy we kept memorising all the prayers. We did not know then that She used to read out from this book to Dada (Pranab) every day. The Mother came out on the terrace at about ten o’clock (this was known as the Terrace Darshan). We would be waiting from much earlier at the Ashram in the open courtyard near Satyakarma’s room. We carried the book, Prayers and Meditations, with us. Then Chitra and I would sit and read this book together. It was from then that this desire rose strongly in us to read this book with the Mother. And what a surprise! Our prayer was answered one day! One day, Chitra, Tapati and I were waiting on the staircase to go to the Mother. First Tapati entered. The Mother told her something. Tapati did not come out from the room. Then it was Chitra’s turn. She went to the Mother a little hesitantly. The Mother told her something as well. And she did not come out of the room either!
“Good Lord! What punishment was awaiting me this time?”
I went in a little reluctantly with this thought in my head. “Would you like to study Prayers and Meditations?” I went
wild with this unexpected joy! On entering the room I saw that Tapati and Chitra were happily seated next to Pranab. Their eyes seemed to say:
“Just see, how our prayer has been answered!”
So we were four to start with. And that is how the Prayers and Meditations class started. On Tapati’s birthday the Mother had given her a copy of Prayers and Meditations to read but that was much before this class started. Gradually the number of people coming to this class increased. For lack of space the class was shifted to the Meditation hall next to Sri Aurobindo’s room.
I have to tell you about an amusing incident that happened when the class was organised in the Mother’s room. We prepared our questions before going to the class. We had just begun learning French then. And so naturally the questions were properly committed to memory again and again. Even then we got terribly nervous talking in French. One of us while trying to ask a question in French got so nervous that instead of saying ‘N’est-ce pas cela?’ blurted out: ‘N’est ta pas ta la?’
We were rolling with laughter! The Mother too began laughing joyously as She watched us. That poor girl was so embarrassed then!
My friend Gauri (who was later given the work of attending on the Mother at the Playground) and I used to take so much trouble to prepare the questions. Our knowledge of French was such at that stage that writing a single line in French was like having a brain operation! Just to think of our facial expression at that time makes me laugh.
The Mother’s chair was placed facing Sri Aurobindo’s room. Perhaps the Mother could see Sri Aurobindo in this way. We sat facing the Mother and so we did not have the privilege of getting a glimpse of Sri Aurobindo. We did not ever look back, not even out of curiosity! There was a subtle wall of ‘don’ts’ that prevented us from doing such things. The Mother used to ask each one of us to open the book with eyes closed. The line that appeared had to be recited out loud to the Mother. Someone had this line to recite:
“O Mère, prends pitié de moi!” and the Mother seemed to nod in answer! I got the following line one day:
“Paix, paix sur toute la terre.”
Tapati got: “Écoute notre prière, réponds à notre appel, viens!”
We had to concentrate with our eyes closed and with the help of a paper cutter we opened any page and pointed at a line. The line that came up was supposed to be some sort of an indication for that person. The Mother has spoken at great length about this in the Bulletin of August 1960 on page
It was in this class that the Mother asked one day:
“Which is the shortest prayer in Prayers and Meditations?”
The entire class was stumped! Even the grown-ups who knew French well lowered their heads in silence, like bad students who had not revised their lessons! Tehmi-ben from amongst us softly mentioned the date and year of that prayer. Tehmi-ben always kept herself in the background as she was a most timid and quiet sort of a girl. The Mother looked affectionately at Tehmi-ben for some time while we younger ones swelled up with pride. One of us answered a question that even the grown-ups had not been able to answer! There was a subtle competition between the young and the old right from the beginning! It is like the first child who sees his younger siblings arrive and thinks that they have come to take their share of the mother’s love. There is a tinge of jealousy. Well, it was something like that! In tennis, this competition was most glaring. Even in football. Often the matches were between the young and the old. But it was great fun.
One day this class suddenly stopped.
The year was 1947. India became free and Partition followed. That year, on the evening of 15th August one of Sri Aurobindo’s disciples was killed by some outsiders. It was a ghastly sight. It was in this class that after this dreadful incident the Mother was forced to comment:
“Become sincere. Walk on the path of Truth. Otherwise one day either Sri Aurobindo or I will have to go away.”
A deep pain had been felt at these words of the Mother. We were all trembling with fear. How could the Mother say such a thing? And that is what happened. This is perhaps our misfortune.
The Mother wills one way and we in our lack of intelligence go another. One day while walking in the Playground the Mother observed:
“I had known so far the saying ‘Man proposes, God disposes’ but now I see it is ‘God proposes, man disposes’.” The Mother’s voice had a tinge of sadness.
We have become obstacles in the Mother’s Work. And yet
I will assert, in the Mother’s words:
No human will can finally prevail against the Divine’s Will.
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