I came to the Ashram for the Puja-holidays in 1950. It was the full moon of Lakshmi and Pondicherry was flooded with a soft silver light that evening as I stood on the sea-front all alone. When I used to come from Calcutta for the darshan, the Mother, after Her evening meditation and blessing, would meet a few girls including me, in the small room upstairs. I became part of this group from 1949. This was an incredible experience, to find the Mother in such close intimacy and spend some time with Her all alone, to receive a flower from Her and be blessed in that warm stillness. Only one who has experienced this can understand what I mean. Words fall short of conveying its full impact and significance.

I was slowly walking along the sea-front towards the Ashram as my heart shed tears of grief at the thought of leaving the Mother to go back to Calcutta. Only much later when I had grown up did I understand in Sri Aurobindo's and the Mother's writings that these were tears of the soul.

Page 24

I was waiting on the Meditation Hall staircase as the Mother's evening meditation and blessing got over. Now it was my turn to go to the Mother. My heart was exploding with grief and I just could not control my tears as I began ascending the steps towards Her. She would wait for us above the staircase in that small room where now on Darshan days a photograph of the Mother or Sri Aurobindo is kept and through which we pass to go to Sri Aurobindo's room. I went up and stood before Her and offered Her some flowers. The Mother was wearing a white Banarasi sari with a gold-zari border. As soon as I laid my eyes on Her my tears simply spilled over. How I wept! I could not even look at the Mother. My tears rolled down unstoppably. Then She took the 'pallu' of Her sari and wiped my tears clean, kissed me on the forehead and said, "Don't cry. You shall return here one day. If your father tries to force you into a marriage, send me a telegram. I will make all the arrangements for your coming here."

There was a small cupboard on Her right on which was placed a tray full of different kinds of flowers. I did not know then that the Mother had given a spiritual significance to each flower. The Mother gave to each one the flower that corresponded to their need and aspiration and which would help in their sadhana and the transformation of their nature. That day too, as She was selecting the flower for me, She told me, "Don't get married. You are very sensitive by nature and you are very sincere in your feelings. If ever you get entangled in this life of marriage, it would be almost impossible for you to come out of it. That's why you should not get married, for then you will be able to walk on the path of sadhana. This is indeed your life, my dear child. This is your life. Don't get married."

The Mother blessed me and I came down. Something had been deeply stirred within me. I was still very young then and studying in Calcutta. I had not thought at all about my future, not even about my coming to settle in the Ashram. And then in just a few instants, this huge churning had begun! The Mother had decided about my future in a flash! Would I be able to embrace this life? I remained seated in the Meditation

Page 25

Hall, my mind restless with agitation. I thought of a hundred things. It was true that I loved the Mother, it was undeniable that I felt a very deep attraction for Her, but what about the other side of my nature? My emotional self? Would all the different sides of my nature be stilled into joyful acceptance of this path? What was I to do now? The Mother had clearly said that my place was here. Now there was no way I could disregard Her words. But still the questions racked my brains: Would I be able to? Would I be able to do without the experience of married life? Would I be able to walk alone without depending on anybody? Would I be able to give up the worldly life in order to live a life of sadhana? How do peoplewho live in the Ashram practise the sadhana? And what do I know about sadhana - nothing at all! What was I to do? In that agitated state, I ran back home to my mother. I frankly told my mother everything. Ma drew me close to her bosom and caressing me tenderly said, "Khuku, how fortunate you are! The Mother has asked you to come and live here! Is there a greater Grace? What need you think after this? As I cannot leave you alone I too will come with you." Hearing this from my mother, I hugged Ma very tight and remained with my head in her bosom in silence for some time. The experience was so strong that I remember it even today with the same intensity. I realised within me what a huge support my mother was in my life! To let go a 16-year-old girl into the arms of the divine Mother had not caused her the slightest hesitation or sorrow. Not just that but for the sake of her daughter, she did not feel the slightest hesitation to give up her husband, her beloved sons, her very comfortable life in order to embrace this new life here. It would be, obviously, untrue to say that Ma came to the Ashram to live this life just for me. As I mentioned earlier, my mother had met several saintly and spiritual people before offering herself finally to Sri Aurobindo and the Mother as Their disciple.

In any case, let me return to my story. After the November darshan, we went back to Calcutta. Just a few days after our return, we came to know on the radio about Sri Aurobindo's

Page 26

physical departure from this world. As soon as we heard this news our entire family, except for Baba, returned to Pondicherry for Sri Aurobindo's Mahasamadhi. How we spent those days, before His body was put to rest in the Samadhi, I cannot describe in words. Never had we imagined that Sri Aurobindo would, one day, leave His body, and we would never be able to have His darshan again.

After the Mahasamadhi day on 9^th December, we returned to Calcutta on the 10^th. Within a few days of our return, I came to know that Baba had fixed up, without our knowledge,my wedding with the son of one of his childhood friends.

Baba told my mother in great detail about the wedding plans and began to prepare for it in earnest. Just around this time of my life, I came face to face with a momentous test. It was the wedding of a very close friend of my elder brother Arun, Khoka-da. All dressed up for the occasion, Baudi (sister-in-law) and I went to attend the wedding celebrations. On entering, I noticed in the large crowd that had gathered there, an aunt of mine, Khuku-masi, talking to a handsome young man near the entrance. On noticing me, she called out. She introduced the young man to Baudi and me. After exchanging some civilities I went inside. Just a few days later, this man turned up at our house, wanting to see Baudi. And then he returned a couple of days later! This time I was called down to come and meet him. Baudi disappeared from the room on the pretext of making tea. I continued to talk to this handsome young man who appeared to me very decent and cultured. And yet, I felt something not quite right in his demean-our. The day after his Visit, my father's friend, whose son I was to marry, arrived home calling out 'Khuku-ma. . .Khuku-ma' from the door. I rushed down. I noticed that same young man near the gate, shutting his car-door and walking towards us. Father's friend introduced this boy to me as his son. As soon as I heard his name, I felt as if someone had laid a massive stone On my chest. I don't remember how I behaved that day standing in front of them. For the next few days, I could neither flat nor sleep. I couldn't tell anyone about my condition, not

Page 27

even to my mother. The Mother's words kept echoing in my head, "Don't marry. You have a sensitive nature and you are very sincere in your feelings. Once you get married you won't be able to come out of it." These were the divine Mother's words but I was only 16 then. What about my youthful nature? How strong was I to be able to win this tug-o'-war and come out successful. On one side stood this attractive force enticing me towards all that was beautiful, pleasant in the worldly life, whispering into my ears that I only had to step in to enjoy this happiness and comfort. All I had to do was say "yes, I accept." On the other side was the divine Mother pointing out the possibility of a luminous, radiant future, "In this life, your path is different. Come to me. Follow the destiny of your life for which you were born." Neither Baba nor Ma had spoken to me clearly about my marriage. Baba did not even feel the need to consult me. And there was no question that Ma would talk to me about such a thing.

Ma had always been a woman of few words. When Baba started to get the wedding jewelry ready, Ma told him one day, "Have you spoken to Khuku about the wedding? Has she agreed? If she happily agrees to get married then I have nothing to say. But, mind you, if she is not willing, I will never consent to such a wedding." Baba retorted, "You cannot stop this wedding! I am her father. I know what is good for her and I am most certainly going ahead with it!" Saying this, Baba left the house in a huff. And then began a period of recurring arguments and turmoil at home between Ma and Baba. The disharmony rose to a crescendo. This would happen every day as soon as Baba got back home. The atmosphere in the house became progressively so unbearable that it became difficult to live there. I still remember Ma's face whenever any reference was made to this wedding. My mother was a short-statured, fair, beautiful, quiet woman but what strength and inner determination was in her, I came to see in the few months that followed Baba's decision about my wedding. After all this time that has gone by, when I think of the past, I guess it would have been impossible for me to come to Pondicherry, had Ma

Page 28

not stood by me and opposed Baba in that way. Today I draw all my support and strength from the Grace of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother, from Their blessing but my reaching Their Feet has been made possible only by my mother's steadfast faith. And for this I shall remain eternally and infinitely grateful to her.

And so a few months went by in this perturbed atmosphere at home. The wedding paraphernalia began to be collected, the jewelry, the saris, the vessels, etc. All this was being done only by Baba. He was in charge of all the preparations. Ma remained throughout very calm and quiet. She did not show any enthusiasm for this wedding, nor did she try to oppose or disrupt it in any way. She did not allow any situation of disharmony to arise. Neither of my two brothers knew the reason for such a state of things at home or for her difficult state of mind. But they felt and understood that there was a great deal of conflict and disagreement between Ma and Baba. When all the members of the household had gone to sleep, Ma and I would lie in our room and deliberate about how to get out of this tangle. The Mother had told me to send Her a telegram in case my father decided to fix my wedding. But how were we supposed to do that.? Then one day in the midst of all these arguments and disquiet, my brother Arun came and handed me an envelope. He said he had received this from our neighbour Satya-da who asked him to give it to me. On opening the envelope, I discovered that it was a note from Nolini-da addressed to me:

Dear Shobha,
The Mother has asked you to come at once. The Mother sends you Her blessing.

Nolini-da

I told Ma about Nolini-da's letter. This letter from Nolini-da seemed to both of us like a miraculous event. After returning to Calcutta from Pondicherry, we had not informed the Mother, at least not outwardly, about the wedding preparations and the disquiet and disagreement between my parents

Page 29

over this. Had the Mother already seen this impending obstacle come up in my life and that is why She had repeatedly alerted me not to get married?

But how was I to go? I had no money. How was I to take Baba's permission? And then why would Baba ever consent to such a decision? The disquiet would only increase at home. All these worries racked my being but my mother was unaffected and calm. With exemplary determination, she said, "If the Mother has asked us to come, then we must prepare to leave." When Baba would fall asleep in his room, Ma and I made secretly the necessary preparations to set out for Pondicherry. Ma asked my brothers if one of them could accompany us to Pondicherry for a few days. Neither of the brothers agreed.

On not getting any cooperation from my brothers, Ma called one of my paternal cousins, Nau-da (Sunil Kumar Brahma), and explained to him in detail the whole affair and requested him to accompany the two of us to Pondicherry. When he heard about the Mother's words, he at once agreed to be our escort. It was Nau-da who made all the arrangements, not just the financial but everything else too, and kept the entire matter under wraps from Baba and my brothers. Both Ma and I felt that behind this spontaneous, generous help from Nau-da was the Mother's unmistakable Grace. Else nothing would have moved.

Finally on 13^th June 1951, against the express wishes of Baba and everyone in the family, Ma and I left for Pondicherry with two suitcases and a bedding. How can I ever forget that day? Ma and I bid adieu to the house. The transport that was to take us to the station stood outside. Nau-da was carrying our luggage down into the car. My brothers had also come down. Ma and I bowed down to Sri Aurobindo's and the Mother's photographs in our room and came down and stopped for a while near the gate. I saw Baba standing there and visibly crying. Seeing him cry, I too broke down. I went up to him and bowed down at his feet. His crying only increased and he said, "You have trampled on all my hopes and desires and are going away. Know that I am no longer your

Page 30

father. Henceforth, don't ever expect anything from me!" I was still crying for I knew I was leaving my father forever. I simply said, "I give you my word, Baba, that I will never ever ask you for anything." On hearing this Baba's weeping grew even more. As I write about this, Baba's face emerges before me, clear and alive as daylight. What an ordeal I was going through! My calm, extraordinarily enduring mother bowed down to her husband, blessed her two sons and went out to sit in the car.

On 15^th June, on a Wednesday evening, we arrived in Pondicherry. Yogananda, an old sadhak of the Ashram, had come to fetch us at the train-station. That was his officially assigned duty from the Ashram: to receive new Ashramites or visitors coming for darshan and escort them to their place of accommodation. We went with him to a house called Red House. It was a very large house that the Mother had allocated to the two of us. The whole of the ground-floor was meant for us. Beyond the gate was a verandah. Then there was a room occupied by a Chinese couple, Hu Hsu and his wife, both of them well-known artists. Except for this room, the rest of the ground-floor was kept for us by the Mother. It was a well-furnished house. A lot of the house-owner's furniture was tastefully placed in the different rooms for our use. Out-side, there was a little yard and a garden. The property was enclosed by a red railing. On the eastern side stood a big gate that led to the sea which was visible from the gate itself. One could hear the waves breaking in the distance. There was a large terrace above the house. Standing on this terrace, I could enjoy the infinite beauty of nature: gold-flecked sunrises, tranquil silvery full moon nights, the endlessly murmuring waves Whispering to the shore each time a new rhythm and tone, the serene blue skies ever-changing with fleecing marble-white clouds. How many times was I to stand on this terrace in all the decades lived in the Red House, contemplating silently the vast sea which would inevitably lift me out of the limiting and sorrowful moments of littleness or exaggerated sense of self- importance. The natural scenery around was as beautiful as

Page-31

the house. We put our things in one of the bigger rooms full of lovely furniture: beds, table, dressing table, dining-table, in short everything we needed. Ma looked all around the room and then looking at me, exclaimed gently, "Khuku, so finally we made it to Pondicherry!" My heart filled with sorrow as I remembered, Baba, my brothers, the Calcutta house. I did not Say anything to Ma. I knew deep within me that a whole new Chapter was beginning in our lives that day.

The next morning after getting ready, Ma, Nau-da and I proceeded to the Balcony. The Mother's darshan was at 6.00 but we had set out from the house much earlier. Daylight was just dawning then. The streets were quite deserted still except for some sadhaks and sadhikas, all heading for the same destination. We went and stood near Mridu-di's house because from there we could see the Mother very clearly. The street was almost full with people who were waiting in pin-drop silence. Some were waiting for Her with folded hands, some were waiting with eyes closed in meditation. I was looking eagerly at the Balcony when the Mother stepped out on it. flow many times had I had Her darshan here, but somehow that day it all looked and felt so very different, so very meaningful. During the Balcony darshan, I suppose every darshan- Seeker felt that the Mother's gaze had stopped for an instant on him or her. Almost everyone has had this experience. After the darshan, the Mother went back inside.

We started walking towards the Dining-room. In those days people who ate at the Dining-room did not speak much. In the mornings, there was absolute silence. I was following the line to the service counter where the people serving did their work without any talking. The people being served also respected the meditative atmosphere. I still remember three people from the service counter: Charu-da, Bihari-da and Ila-di (Chitra-di and Amita's mother). Their attitude, the quality of their presence at the counter, the atmosphere that they Created standing at the service counter was such that it was needless to announce that the dining space was also a place of sadhana, and it was also an extension of the Ashram. The food

Page-32

was more or less similar to what we get these days, but whether they served porridge or not I do not recollect. More than the food, what struck me was the ambiance, the Presence. I had felt this presence earlier too, but after settling in the Ashram for good, this awareness grew a hundredfold.

After finishing breakfast I headed for the washing area with my plate. Two large water tanks were there for the vessels at that time. A sadhak was standing in front of the tanks to take the plates and dip them inside the water for washing. As I handed over my plate to him a kind of musical air wafted into my ears: it was a sweet, masculine voice singing some sort of a classical strain. I turned to my right and there was Bhishma-da, as usual wiping vessels and humming a classical air. This was not a new sight for me as I had seen it before. When I used to come with my brothers, how many times would we go to the old pier after our evening meal and wait there. Bhishma-da would finish his vessel-wiping work at the Dining-room and come to the pier to sit in a specific place on a cotton rug. Within a few seconds, he would close his eyes and start improvising a musical strain. My brothers and I would sit quietly near him in order to listen to him. The roaring sea was quite loud, no doubt, but the strains of Bhishma-da's singing piercing through that constant roar were a most agreeable experience. That day I kept replaying that memory in my mind very happily. I ran to the gate and told Ma and Nau-da to go ahead to the Ashram. Bhishma-da was doing his work sitting next to a door and I went and sat on the steps of the staircase just in front of this door. I had some free time so I sat there and with eyes closed started enjoying his unfolding alaap. Not many people had assembled yet in the Dining-room. That is why, even though he sang very softly, I could still enjoy it. It was a morning raga, Bhairavi. From time to time my tears within me would Well up as I remembered my brothers. Today they were not With me. From today a new life was unfolding before me. I could not sit there for very long and I got up and began Walking towards the Ashram.

Page 33

Around this time a darshan of the Mother would take place in the morning at the Meditation Hall. The Mother used to be seated in a chair and distribute flowers to the Ashramites and bless them. Either Champaklal-ji or Dyuman-bhai would stand next to Her and hand over the flowers to Her. As soon as I reached the Ashram courtyard, I noticed a lot of people had already gathered for the Mother's blessing. We too joined the line. On glimpsing the Mother from where I stood in the line, my eyes filled with tears. I remembered the strong emotions I had gone through with Her the last time. I could see the Mother from quite far, standing in the line. Keeping my attention on Her, I moved slowly forward thinking that I had left home for this divine Mother. It is Her attraction that had made me embrace this new life. Would I be able to renounce everything from within and offer myself at Her Feet? This thought, however, did not last very long for I suddenly found myself in front of the Mother. She stretched Her arms towards me, took both my hands and kept them on Her lap and then with a deeply penetrating look She focused Her attention on me. My eyes looked on at Her, unblinking, as long as Her gaze was on me. She said, "So you have come here for good?" Holding both Her hands, I replied, "Yes, Mother, I have come for good." She concentrated on me for a little longer, then She offered me a flower and placing Her right hand on my forehead, She blessed me.

Ma was next in line to offer pranam to the Mother. She gave Ma a pink rose named 'Surrender' and meditated for a long time with Her hand on Ma's head. After doing pranam, Ma, Nau-sda and I came back to Red House.

Page 34

< Prev.

Book

Next >

ABOUT

THEME

SIMILAR BOOKS

Living in The Presence

The Full Moon Of Lakshmi

Poems by Sri Aurobindo

Spiritual Significance of Flowers

Disciples / Seekers

Sri Aurobindo's Works

The Mother's Works

Satprem's Books

Works by Disciples / Seekers

Guidance

Let us co-create the website.