This anthology presents glimpses of Sudhir's life, his memoirs of Sri Aurobindo in the period 1906-1909, The Mother's comments on Sudhir & other revolutionaries
(Sudhir lived with Sri Aurobindo like a family member for almost a year. Later, he looked after Sri Aurobindo when they both were in the Alipore Jail in the year 1908-1909. Here are a few experiences and anecdotes recounted by Sudhir, originally in Bengali.)
It was the year 1907. I had stepped into my seventeenth year. The idea of a University degree was extremely repugnant to me and accordingly, I gave up my studies in the wake of the great stir for National Education. This was done by me with the solemn intention of snatching my country back from the clutches of the British.
There was a mood of expectancy in the air. Rumours were floating about. It was said that all the provinces were ready for a battle and that a hundred and fifty thousand Naga Sannyasins (naked ascetics) had pledged themselves to come to the aid of Bengal and fight unto death. Such stories filled the atmosphere. I was boiling with an inexpressible excitement and was completely under its sway. Home and family comfort no longer held any charm for me. I started using pompous phrases and high-sounding words in conversation with my parents, brothers and sisters. Indeed I believed at that time that I had become an extraordinary mortal, a kind of superman, and that nothing was too great or too difficult for me to do.
When news reached Calcutta that idols of Durga had been smashed in the temples at Jamalpur, seven of us started at once for the place, intending to teach the miscreants a lesson. There was a big meeting, a gathering of thousands. Fighting flared up and we had to use firearms to defend ourselves. My six companions were arrested on charges of murder; I alone escaped and after going through excruciating hardships, I managed to reach Calcutta. There I received, from known and unknown alike many a pat on the back for being plucky. Detailed reports of our exploits were published in the newspapers. I was acclaimed hero. While the others had been caught, I had escaped! Till then I was doubtful about my reception; least of all did I expect any praise. Rather I had misgivings that I might face disgrace for having left my comrades in the lurch, while I escaped alone. But the leaders of those days made a lot of noise about me. Perhaps because I qualified myself through this examination, I became trustworthy in the eyes of the seniors; at any rate I was promoted to the next higher grade. I was directed to stay in Sri Aurobindo’s house and to look after him.
I continued my studies there. I felt greatly honoured for the privilege of being able to stay with such a great and learned man, one who was so gentle and quiet, one who had sacrificed so much. Perhaps I wanted to show off this privilege before my friends and relatives a little. Till then I had not been able to feel any real sense of achievement or glory unless I received acclamation from others.
Sri Aurobindo in Jail
The house was a small two-storey building with three living rooms. There Sri Aurobindo used to translate the Mahabharata into English verse and write articles for Bande Mataram, the most prominent newspaper in those days, and at the same time he would explain things to me, such as Carlyle’s idea of the French Revolution and Hero-worship. For the first time I observed that it was quite possible to direct one’s mind towards three or four activities at the same time. Once I could not help asking how this was possible. Sri Aurobindo answered: “It is not very difficult. If the mind is sufficiently trained and cultivated, it can easily do many things simultaneously”. An innate bashfulness and seeming humility was still my wont. Sri Aurobindo’s simple and easy manner, his politeness, friendliness and equanimity overwhelmed me. I wondered at that time if he was really a being of this world or some other. Yet my mischievous mind had the temerity to test him — I had been brought up in an atmosphere of insincerity and suspicion, a life beset with want and struggle, misunderstanding and jealousy, the play of hide and seek and duplicity. I could never convince myself that a man could be of his height. Could it be really possible? Yet I could not help liking Sri Aurobindo. On how many occasions I tried to look searchingly through him with my mischievous eyes to discover some little bit of human weakness; later, I felt overwhelmed with shame and disgust at my own lowly mentality.
Sri Aurobindo used to mingle with us unreservedly, eating, sleeping, talking and joking with us! There was no barrier at all. At that time so much liberality appeared a little too much for me. One day I went so far as to protest. It happened when I found he had written in a letter to his friend Sundari Mohan Das, “My friend Sudhir Kumar is going to see you”. I asked him point blank, “How do I become your friend? You, who are so much above me in learning, age, accomplishment and fame — in fact, in every respect. Rather it is proper that I should venerate you, seek advice from you, be humble to you; instead I am described as your friend and equal. And that too while writing to someone who is much older than me, and higher in status!” But Sri Aurobindo brushed all this aside and would not let me go before convincing me thoroughly of my misconception. In his faltering Bengali which sounded so sweet in his English-accented tongue, he said, “Because our aims, our hopes and our aspirations are so much the same how can we be any other than friends? The diffidence you feel is due to the tradition of this country. At present it has gone beyond limit and taken an exaggerated form which seems so unnatural.”
Seeing Sri Aurobindo absorbed in his work on the Mahabharata, I asked him one day, rather with a motive, “Do you really believe everything that is written in Mahabharata? I have heard that there is much in it that was added later.” That day I was caught quite off my guard and I exposed myself openly. Sri Aurobindo seemed to be extremely surprised at the question, as if he never expected it from me. I felt very ashamed and my words became confused. But Sri Aurobindo seemed to understand and was pained at my feeling of embarrassment and went on to explain in his gentle and halting Bengali, so sweet to hear; the story of Vasuki supporting the earth on its head is as true as our existence — but the vision which revealed it has been lost to us. And the vision through which we observed the modern scientific world, which has evolved through a long process of action and counteraction, is not the whole of man’s vision. Vasuki represents vital power and is a symbol of total Life-energy. Man becomes conscious gradually after passing through all the gradations of evolution, organic and inorganic, animate and inanimate. All those multitudinous expanses of innumerable lives journeying through which we have attained to our present human consciousness, lie embedded in us fold upon fold, in deep kinship with us. Because of that, the snake and the jackal, the tiger and the lion are all our old relatives. Man’s kinship with the snake is indeed very close. Behind the body of all creatures lies the subtle body of the great creative Energy in seed form. That subtle body becomes veiled upon taking this gross body. The ideas and beliefs of the Hindus were not false. We have now to regain that Vision. Because of our present state of ignorance, there is so much suffering and want, so much stress and anguish for awakening.
Out of Sri Aurobindo’s remuneration for the post of principal of National College, which was 75 rupees, 23 rupees had to be paid for house rent; the rest of the amount was spent for the maintenance of four or five persons in the family. One day he suddenly told me that I should read the Mahabharata translated by Kaliprasanna Sinha. The price of the book was 18 rupees. I reflected. He ordered the book without ever thinking of our household expenses. Moreover, I have neither the patience nor the inclination to read such a big volume. I went to a bookshop and found a Mahabharata by Sourendra Mohan Tagore, a neat and smaller edition for seven and a half rupees. I bought it and read it. A few days later when the topic of the Mahabharata came up again I brought out the book with some diffidence and placed it in Sri Aurobindo’s hands. Seeing the book he glanced at me and said with a little smile, “There is no profit in reading this Mahabharata. It is written according to the modern historical ideas, these are but the outer husk. It is like taking out the kernel of its spirit and leaving only the husk. Return this translation and get the translation of Kaliprasanna Sinha instead.” As if I would be able to follow Sanskrit even if I read it! I thought of raising the question of domestic expenses. Anyhow, I did not return the book and considered many a way out if asked a second time. I pondered over something which I could offer as an excuse in order to acquit myself.
Our bomb factory was located in a garden house belonging to K. D. Ghose in Manicktala. In those days cheap pistols could be bought from Chandannagore. The armoury of the bomb factory was kept in a small underground room beneath the garden. No one was staying in the garden at that time except Sachin Sen and Bijoy Nag. Our leaders had gone to the Vindhya Hills to arrange for the opening of Bhavani Mandir — (a temple to Mother Bhavani) — and were busy there. A police inspector frequently visited the garden to cultivate holy men’s company — Sadhu-sanga! We regarded him as a spy, but later he was sacked from service because of this very association with us. At last the visits of the alleged spy were reported to Sri Aurobindo; hearing of them, he said, “Tell him, please do not come here. The police cannot enter someone else’s garden without a proper warrant.” I was taken aback at this instruction. I thought, “Was it for this reply that I approached him?” Anyhow, I acted on my own counsel. I got four or five carts, filled them with all the armoury and transferred the lot to a friend’s house. After finishing the whole operation, I came back and reported to Sri Aurobindo what had been done. He listened quietly and at the end said only this, “All right!” I did not find the least trace of anxiety or worry on his face.
I got malarial fever from my frequent visits to Chandannagore. Sri Aurobindo took me with him to his maternal grandfather’s house in Baidyanath (Deoghar) along with his wife, sister and a cook. A large thick cotton carpet was spread on the floor and we all slept on it. Sri Aurobindo used to type on long foolscap paper; his rendering of the Mahabharata in verse form. Dr. Prankrishna Acharya treated me. One day I had an acute attack of fever. I shivered very much and felt thirsty and nauseous. The typed sheets lay nearby and I spewed on them. Sri Aurobindo’s serene face did not betray any sign of dismay at what had happened, nor did he come hurrying to save his manuscripts. Slowly he rose and was about to clean up the mess. I felt mortified beyond description. My soul melted in gratitude and at the same time I felt terribly embarrassed. Never had I experienced such love and kindness. At least, I expected to hear some kind of exclamation such as “Oh! now he has spoiled everything!” But no, nothing came out of him. Nothing perturbed his serene face, not a line moved on it. Previously I had been roundly rebuked by others on so many occasions for unintended mischief. But all the while I was with Sri Aurobindo more than a year I never heard from him, even on a single occasion, so much as a “Don’t!” Not even an order or admonition. If I went beyond the limit, Sri Aurobindo would just keep silent, but it was not that gravity of silent disapproval, he just remained unmindful, as if he had not heard what I was saying, being immersed in some other thought. Even that unmindfulness was not due to any indifference or neglect; he repeatedly found out if I persisted in some sort of mischief, but he always remained outwardly the same as ever. Now as I reflect upon it, I seem to see the truth of it. A high and noble mind develops a large outlook and vision, while a small mind seeing defects everywhere, becomes blinded by them.
One day I was about to go for target practice, and took a shotgun with me. Nearby in a small hut with mud walls and a thatched roof lived Sri Aurobindo’s maternal uncle. He always kept his doors and windows shut and sat on a thick pile of old newspapers. Through this eccentricity, he persisted in his silence and seclusion, never coming out of his room. I resolved to have a look at him. I gathered information about him from Didi, Sri Aurobindo’s sister, and learnt that he was very much scared of the sound of a gun. So on this day I crept under his window and fired the gun. A terrible howl came from inside the room as if I had fired right at him. A pitiable groan was heard. I became very perplexed and also anxious. I would truly have been happy to escape, so ashamed did I feel. I saw his mother approach. Then a face pale as a candle with a thin overgrowth of black beard appeared at the window. Before granny could ask anything I blurted out, “I never thought it would turn out like this!” She seemed to grasp the situation and was relieved. She went towards her son with some words of comfort, such as, “Oh, what has happened!” In no time I saw Sri Aurobindo, his wife and sister coming. I grew thoroughly frightened and mortified at this development. Taking cover of the rooms in a big house, I ran away as fast as I could to the farthest corner of a wrestling ground belonging to another uncle. To him I unburdened the gist of the event. But this uncle, being a wrestler and a daredevil, paid little attention to what I said and started on some topic of his own which had nothing to do with it. Gradually it became midday and as I failed to appear for lunch, Didi came out in search of me. Standing in that wrestling ground, I tried to explain what happened and exonerate myself of the crime. But the more I persisted, Didi turned the talk to other topics and kept on saying, “It’s getting late, Sejda (Sri Aurobindo) is waiting for you for lunch.” I entered the house feeling like a thief apprehended. I decided I would admit my mischief at the first opportunity. But I failed to detect any sign of disapproval or concern on anyone’s face. I felt as if my eyes, my face, my whole body was bending low towards the floor in shame. How a boy like me with such an insubordinate and misbehaving nature could be disciplined was perhaps known only to him. I felt as if I were dead, Sri Aurobindo took in my sorry plight with a single glance and said nothing.
In this way I indulged in one mischief after another and received inner blows. This made me reflect: “Such a man, he is really like a god! I will never, never hide anything from him or speak a lie to him. To disturb such a godlike being is the worst of sins!” His never saying anything, never reproaching me, only looking on as if he neither approved of my wrong-doing nor ignored it, as if he never gave any place to them in his thought, this silence tormented me and filled me with indescribable anguish. I longed above all that he should say something. I even went so far as to speak to him of my weaknesses. He only said: “Human beings are weak. It is not good to make them still more weak by dwelling on their weaknesses. Rather one should think only of that which gives strength to the mind.”
Now let me narrate Sri Aurobindo’s “anger”, of which I learnt during my long stay with him.
One day Didi had asked our cook to make some hot water for her. The cook, being disturbed during his cooking, replied with some irritation and annoyance. When we all sat down for lunch, Didi complained against the cook. Sri Aurobindo listened attentively. But when the cook came to serve us two times, three times, and Didi saw that her Sejda did not say so much as a word to him, she could not contain herself. She exclaimed “If you don’t say anything to the cook, he will become more and more insolent!” Sri Aurobindo looked surprised, as if he had not grasped the thing before and only when Didi alerted him could he understand its seriousness! When the cook appeared again, Sejda said, in an even tone, “You don’t listen to Didi? Cook, this is very bad! Do you understand? You must never do it again, — Never!” After he had repeated this verbal disapprobation a few times, the cook started to justify his own case in his native tongue. “Didi had ordered hot water while I was frying fish — how could I manage both? So I had objected to her, but later I made the hot water, etc.”… And so the matter ended.
After the Pujas, having spent a month in Baidyanath, we returned to Calcutta. My parents had become anxious, not receiving any news of my whereabouts and had sent my elder brother to enquire at the Yugantar office and take me back home. I mentioned all of this to Sri Aurobindo. He gave me some money and asked me to go home to Khulna. I asked him the reason — for I thought he had had enough of me and wanted to get rid of me. But he gave me those instructions: “Visit your mother once every week. When you go away, inform her the first time about your departure. The next time you go, tell her two or three days before your departure, then leave without any further message.
On subsequent visits, go to your house after a fortnight, stay for two or three days, then leave the house, letting someone else inform your mother about your departure. When you go the next time, don’t put up at your own house, stay in some one else’s house, but visit your family. When you leave, don’t inform them at all. In this way, after you have paid visits to your home five or six times, your absence will be taken as natural, and there will be no anxiety.” Such a tender-hearted and considerate person Sri Aurobindo was at the same time the main figure in a secret revolutionary conspiracy!
The next phase was one of searches and arrests. At Narayangarh, there was a bomb attack on the viceroy’s train; the engine was damaged and the train derailed. Then came the Muzaffarpore bombing; there were searches, bombs and pistols were found, and arrests made.
I escaped to Khulna, my object being to hide in the forests of Sunderbans. But as a result of Naren Goswami’s treachery, Samsul Rahaman came to Khulna with a warrant of arrest. Out of consideration for my father and others who were in service, I surrendered myself voluntarily. There were about ninety of us lodged in Alipore Jail, all arrested in connection with the Alipore Bomb case. Besides us there were some others brought from Bombay and Madras. The jail became a veritable den of high spirits and amusement. Sri Aurobindo went into meditation in the evening and in the early hours before dawn. On days when there was no court to attend, he would often spend the time with us, sometimes we played word making games for learning the Bengali language; sometimes there would be a mock court in which Ullaskar would be the judge and Sri Aurobindo himself would become the Public Prosecutor imitating the arguments of Norton. He would expound on subjects like the philosophy of British law and justice, the morality and immorality of Anarchism, Imperialism, revolution, the morality of political dacoity, bombing, killings etc., he spoke with such lucidity, arguing on both sides, that it seemed he had a map of all these topics spread out before him.
A certain speaker from the student community of Harrison Road arrived after surrendering. His name was Probash Deb. The subject of discussion was Formula of the Bomb. Probash’s habit of speaking, eating and moving was always brisk. His features were short for his body, his face was shaped in conformity with the close-cropped hair on his head. When giving an oration he would throw his arms and legs about just like a boy of ten, though he was twenty-five or more. At times when the orator became grave, we would tease him in order to lighten things. Here is an example.
Seeing Sri Aurobindo meditating, we also started to meditate at night. Bijoy Bhattacharya was arrested while making bombs. He used to join us in these activities. Everyone liked him. One day, seeing Probash, the orator, deep in meditation at midnight, Bijoy took a palm-leaf fan in hand, held it like a flute in the pose of Krishna, stood before Probash and whispered “Here I have come!” What insolence! How dare he make fun of spiritual emotion! Pandemonium broke out! Probash jumped up and chased the fake god through the whole length of the big hall. The noise of the stampede woke all of us up. Finally Bijoy Kanta took shelter under Sri Aurobindo’s wings. The complainant then and there demanded justice from Sri Aurobindo. He threatened that if the case was not dealt with, either Bijoy Kanta would be annihilated or the sadhak himself would commit suicide! So a court was set up at two in the morning! At the orator’s request, Ullaskar was made the judge and Sri Aurobindo agreed to take upon himself the role of counsel for the defendant. The court began. The counsels for the accused were Upen Bandopadhyaya, Hemchandra Das and others. The rest of us became witnesses for one side or the other.
Every morning after taking his bath Sri Aurobindo selected a corner in the hall as his living space. There, with his head on the floor and feet in the air, he spent hour after hour. One day the Governor of Bengal, Mr. Baker, came to see our ward. Sri Aurobindo was then suspended in that pose with his feet upwards. Baker remained standing there for about half an hour without uttering anything. When Sri Aurobindo did not respond in any manner, he left, thinking the posture to be another instance of the occult and unintelligible performances of Indian mystics. We were filled with apprehension: “Now”, we thought “we are finished. The Governor surely came to speak with him. He must have felt that he was being ignored. Obviously they will shoot us now. Perhaps a little conversation would have softened him.”
On the day Naren Goswami was killed by Kanai, the sound of the firing brought cheer to our hearts. For, it had been decided beforehand that we would make an attempt at Jail-break by forcing our way through the main gate of the prison as soon as help in the form of bombs and pistols arrived from outside. We thought that help had come. But those repeated sounds of firing seemed to come not from the direction of the main gate, but from the hospital. By and by news reached us that Kanai had overpowered and finished off Naren Goswami in front of the jail hospital. We felt like dancing out of sheer joy. The alarm bell had already started ringing following the sound of the shots.
Sri Aurobindo was then taking his bath and he went on with it as if he had heard nothing. I was wiping his body. At that time I used to bathe Sri Aurobindo in the presence of the guards every morning since during that period he had ceased to make any effort at doing things himself, eating, bathing or anything; he had even stopped making comments. He remained in the state of perpetual unmindfulness. Our elders, Upenda and others, finding me a strong and healthy lad, had selected me to look after him. I told Sri Aurobindo that the guards were asking people to get inside their rooms, and that the alarm bell was ringing because Goswami had been murdered. Shots could still be heard outside. Sri Aurobindo seemed to be totally unaware of all this as he slowly entered the room. Such a big event for us! He seemed hardly to take any notice of it. He never made any comment on these events even afterwards. His silence was something totally unlike that of ours, which is just the shutting of our mouths. Slowly his silence spread itself inwardly and outwardly; all became silent, as if all the inner mechanisms of his body, even the breathing, was suspended. When I could not reconcile his silence with my own feeling; I would mutter to myself: Has he gone mad? But inside myself I could not accept this. Whenever I came in contact with him, I felt a deep attraction towards him, a sympathy, such as one feels towards one’s very own.
Then Sri Aurobindo stopped speaking altogether. His eyes seemed far away, though they were not vacant, as if he dwelt in some far off twilit region. He used to go to the court wearing his dhoti tightly tucked up in the manner of working men. He would put on his cotton shawl drawing one end below his right arm and throwing it over his left shoulder. Was this the dress or manner of one who could have become a district magistrate in the I.C.S.? Rather he looked like a mendicant, a fakir! He was just like any other prisoner, a criminal, a thief, a robber. He had nothing to discuss with his lawyers, C. R. Das and Byomkesh, no comments to give them about his case. He would sit in a corner of the dock and sometimes laugh uncontrollably, becoming almost red in the face. What he saw there he alone knew. During the identification parade he failed to move aside even when he was told to do so. Was it reckless madness or some profound reliance? His black hair glistened always as if oil was dripping from it. His face resembled that of a child’s, without any lines of thought or anxiety, a tender face perpetually filled with a happy smile. His eyes were full of profound peace and tranquillity. His smile was unlike ours; it was expressed in the glance of his eyes. His body exuded a fragrance like that of a baby’s tender body. His nails grew to half an inch, his hair and beard grew longer and longer. Our hairs never had that oily sheen of his. I ventured to ask him: “Do the European warders bring you oil in secret?” He neither smiled nor answered, as if he had not heard me. At night the warders would come and tell us, “Arvind remains standing the whole night, his bedding folded in the corner.” They did not disturb him by pressing him to lie down. They did not even call him up at night as was their practice with us; in our case they called us quite regularly to make sure that we were there and no one had escaped.
From age to age, in life after life, we come down into the human body, do thy work and return to the home of delight. Now too we are born, dedicated to thy work.
— Sri Aurobindo
Sudhir Kumar Sarkar
One day a Scotch warder went crazy. Picking up Sri Aurobindo on his shoulders, he started dancing wildly in front of our cells. He had a big carrot-like nose, a heavy jowl and little eyes — a distorted face filled with demonical laughter! It was really a bizarre sight! The poor fellow seemed unable to decide what to do in his ecstatic state. But Sri Aurobindo was totally still. There was not a trace of smile or vexation on his face. He did not even try to resist. He was in some other world far from this earth. Only the body, separated from his consciousness was held on the shoulder of the warder.
Thus a whole year passed for us. When C. R. Das could not get any assistance from Sri Aurobindo, he would stand looking helpless, wipe away his tears in dismay and go away. We would say among ourselves, “Political leaders, when the blows fall hard and mercilessly, either turn into sadhus or else they go mad!” In the afternoon we were given refreshments at the dock in the court — puris, sandesh and pan (betel leaves). Sri Aurobindo would eat them all together — puri and betel leaves both! — so I had to help him eat properly. I enjoyed sitting beside him and felt like touching him, but I dared not do so for fear of taunts from friends who had other views. But sometimes I would stealthily put my hands out and touch his soft body and feet. I smelt his head, I fed him, I washed his face.
At the end of one year, after the case had been fully heard, the court assembled to decide the date of pronouncing judgment. We were all present. Sri Aurobindo opened his mouth and spoke. He was talking about his realisations and Sadhana to Upen Bandyopadhyaya, Ullaskar Dutt and Nolini Kanta Gupta. He said “Vasudev Narayan has spoken to me, saying, ‘I have much work still to be done through you. I will take you out of prison’.” We then, one after another, taking advantage of the opportunity, asked about our future. Vasudev had already told Sri Aurobindo that we would be given sentences, and that Ullas and Barin would not be hanged. Getting this chance, I asked, “How will I be able to bear the days in prison at this young age? If I become weak and falter, what should I do?” Sri Aurobindo replied, “Think of me; I shall always be with you.” How deeply touching were these words! Out of jail, whenever in difficulty or danger, whenever in my helplessness I have been able to remember him, always I have seen that the difficulty has become a blessing, or if I have had to face it boldly, someone has always delivered me out of danger.
Later, during our life in exile, whenever the tyranny of the British Government tried to oppress us, we noticed how Sri Aurobindo’s Grace was always there to protect us. In the midst of endless abuses and suffering a heavenly cheerfulness wrapped us in its warm embrace, shielding us, comforting us.
In those memorable days of 1907, I have seen Mrinalini Devi take out suits used by Sri Aurobindo during his stay in England and put them on us with her own hands; in this way she would dress us up, when we had occasion to visit subscribers of Bande Mataram and Yugantar for funds.
I have heard it said that Sri Aurobindo had realised identity with all things — earth, trees, stones, birds, and beasts — with his own body, more intimately than we tend to feel towards our kith and kin. But this identity in body and soul does not make things dissolve into some undefined and undifferentiated mass. In fact each separate object is given its due place and value, and in that unique realisation its value goes on increasing more and more. The country, the body, everything appears uniquely in its distinct truth. What human beings can only conceive mentally, becomes living facts, as living and true as life and death itself. When we try to assess a person, we form an idea of him by observing his facial expression and his features; we can even have some glimpse of his mentality. But Sri Aurobindo saw things with some other power of sight: from the gross to the most subtle, all the different planes were revealed to his eye. All our thought and aspirations are derived from those subtle planes. But we can give expression to only a small portion of them. All that we receive comes from those planes. The Gods, Agni, Varuna and others — are not imaginary entities, they are beings as real and existent as we are. We human beings have to depend on those Deities; and they are connected not only with us but with animals. All things are complementary to each other; all that takes place in our world is interlinked with what takes place in those worlds! As the truth of this harmony is revealed to us more and more, all our actions tend towards perfection.
(Sudhir had an interesting way of understanding the happenings of life. He links here a few events in Sri Aurobindo’s life, revealing a deeper truth behind them.)
Here are a few instances of how the mighty British Government in India planned to kidnap Sri Aurobindo, but was foiled in its effort every time:
Thus Sri Aurobindo’s voice, “YET I WILL ESCAPE!” resounds for ever.
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