The time I am writing about is when the Mother organised closely all the activities of the School: studies, sports, annual cultural programmes, even the choice of picnic-spots. Nothing was done in the School without Her consent and knowledge. Once, after the closing of the school-year, my students wanted to go on a picnic with me. I give below the two letters I wrote in this regard. At that time, the Mother had stopped giving individual darshan. These letters give you a glimpse of how closely the Mother was connected with the working of the school.

My letter written to the Mother on 6.12.1959

Sweet Mother,
The following students from my class would like to go on a walking excursion to the Red Hills on December 8. They will leave after Your Balcony-darshan, and return by 11.30 am. Here is a list of the students:

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1. Dilip Patel                                        8. Dipali
2. Gurudas B                                         9. Nalini
3. Pratik                                                10. Tripti
4. Tapas B                                             11. Karuna Mukherji
5. Alo B                                                 12. Lauren D
6. Sumitra Dhandhania                        13. Upendra
7. Kusum Patel

Sweet Mother, as I am alone, I have asked Gangaram to accompany us. We will take from Ravindra-ji:

7 loaves of bread, 25 bananas, 6 ounces of butter

I will take some milk-sweets from Ganpatram. Mother, we need Your permission. Can we go?

The Mother's answer:
My blessings.

Letter written by students to the Mother in 1963:

Sweet Mother,
We have called our French class 'Obeissance'. We offer this name to You and pray that You give us strength to follow your 'Law', so that we find enough force within our own being. Sweet Mother, make us worthy of You. Our salutations to You.

The Mother's answer:
My very dear children,
My blessings are with you.

Let me end this chapter on the French classes with something from the Mother. Life, as they say, is not always a bed of roses. It is but normal that on the path we do stumble and fall. I was taking my French classes with great joy and devotion. I do not know why some people bore some malice against me. After teaching for quite some time, I began hearing that my company

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was so bad that the children were getting spoilt, and that such a teacher ought not to take classes. My exit would only benefit the students. Pained at these repeated taunts, I finally sent a letter to the Mother, "Mother, I am not worthy of being a teacher. I will stop taking classes from the coming year."
The Mother replied:

(You are a good teacher and with a sincere effort you can progress and become an even better teacher. With my blessings)

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