Mother's Chronicles - Book Six

48

The Guest House

"He already knew the war would break out," Mother explained to Satprem in 1962.

Sri Aurobindo was talking with Richard, "about the world, Yoga, the future ... he already knew the war would break out. This was 1914, war broke out in August, and he already knew it towards the end of March or early April." In actual fact, it was on 23 January 1913 that it had been intimated to Sri Aurobindo that "War is preparing" and the message added "& the Turkish chances seem small____" Sri Aurobindo had taken a keen interest in Turkey then; for reasons I have not been able to piece together.

Mirra accompanied Paul Richard to Pondicherry. He came ostensibly for election work. We will be returning to this point shortly.

From 1910 Sri Aurobindo had been in touch with Richard, so he knew that they were coming. As the time drew near for their arrival, he may have felt somewhat uneasy to receive the Richards in the dilapidated house on Matacoil Street in which he was then living. But the problem was finance. Lack of money had obliged him to give up living in Raghavan House. Moreover

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he still owed some rent for it. "Fortunately," he informed Motilal Roy, "the litigation connected with the house has kept the matter hanging; but it may be demanded from us any day and we shall have to pay at once, or face the prospect of being dragged into court and losing our prestige here entirely." The deep respect Sri Aurobindo inspired was a cause for worry to the British Government: "Arabindo Ghose is important as he commands general respect" says a confidential report by C.I.D. Madras.

Sri Aurobindo was looking for a better house to move in. Then two events occurred in July. On 6 July 1913 he noted down about "the easy surmounting of the housing problem and the change in the temper of the intermediary." And Nagen Nag arrived. With his arrival the financial problem eased somewhat. Still, for everything to fall in place a few more months were needed. Finally it was in October that Sri Aurobindo moved from Matacoil Street to rue Francois Martin in the French part of the town.

In February 1914 Moni, Nolini and Saurin left for Bengal. So they were not there to meet the Richards on their arrival at Pondicherry.

"The two persons from France have arrived," said V. Ramaswamy Iyengar beckoning Amrita near him as the latter entered the house at N°41 rue Francois Martin. It was towards the end of March, and Amrita had gone there after school to fetch Ramaswamy for their evening walk. That day as he entered the house he found his older friend sitting all alone in the open courtyard. Said Ramaswamy to the young man, "The two persons from France have arrived. They will just now come and see Sri

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Aurobindo. The order is that none other than the inmates should remain in the house. You go alone to the sea-side."

When in mid-October of the previous year Sri Aurobindo had left his fourth house, N°59 Matacoil Street, which was rented at Rs. 15/- a month, for the new house in rue Francois Martin rented at Rs. 35/-, people were greatly puzzled at the extravagance: the difference in rent would be sufficient to meet the needs of a whole family! But the 'revolutionaries' who had settled at Pondicherry whispered to one another that two Europeans had accepted Sri Aurobindo as their guru and would stay here.

Then one day in December 1913 Amrita had confirmation from Ramaswamy that two persons from the topmost cultural circle of France were coming to Sri Aurobindo for practising yoga. "They would be coming very soon. It was a secret till now; I have disclosed it to you today." Finally, it was towards the end of March that Ramaswamy announced to the youngster the arrival of the two guests.

"It was a big self-sufficient house in Francois Martin Street, N°41." Amrita gave a detailed description of the fifth house where Sri Aurobindo lived for several years. "It had two entrances— one on the north and the other on the west. This well-built structure stood at the junction of two streets. Rue Francois Martin ran from north to south whereas Rue Law de Laurelton from east to west. The western gate faced Rue Francois Martin. This was evidently the postern gate, the northern indeed was the main entrance; but as it remained always locked, the western became the main gate. Entering by this gate one would come across an open space which could be termed a courtyard."

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Facing this door, across the courtyard, were the kitchen and the servants' quarters; on the right of the door was a disused garage, and on the left the main house.

Though the house was big it looked desolate. It had been tenantless for so long that grass had grown thick at places along its walls. But the new inhabitants pulled out the weeds, and daily swept the house. "The northern gate led straight to the staircase; it was later on closed up and the entrance converted into a room. In the interior of the house, at one end of the verandah there was a wide, winding staircase leading to the first floor. Each of the steps had its rim strengthened, almost decorated, by a wooden plank."

At first the house had no electricity, but it did have running water. Unlike most houses of those days with only a well to supply water for the whole household, the new house had a tap! "There was only one tap for the whole house and that too in the open courtyard, against a wall near the back staircase. Under this water tap—it was fitted up almost to a man's height— lay a big round stone resembling the lower part of a grindstone." The back staircase had no overhead protection from sun and rain, as it was meant for the use of "cooks, servants, the menials."

All the inmates took bath under the same tap. Sri Aurobindo bathed last, just a few minutes before lunch. But it was not only a question of one tap for all, but also one towel for all! The one towel served him also after the others had toweled themselves. It would be stretching the truth to say that it was a rich household. It was not. The four or five young men who lived there had one mat each. It was an all-purpose mat: it served as bedstead, mattress, coverlet and pillow. That being

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the sole furniture all their books—plenty of books—lay on the floor. For Sri Aurobindo only a table, a chair, and a camp-cot had been arranged. Nolini recalls that they had neither a decent kerosene lamp nor a lantern, except a single candlestick for Sri Aurobindo's personal use. Then, one afternoon when the boys went out for their games, the electricians came and fitted four points for the entire building: one in Sri Aurobindo's room, another in the centre of the verandah, and two downstairs. By the time the players returned from their football game, it was already dark. But ... what a surprise awaited them as they opened the door and entered the compound! Light, light everywhere, it seemed to them, "a real illumination," marvelled Nolini.

Electricity had come to Pondicherry town only in 1909. Amrita clarifies that there was no electric meter in the house. One rupee four annas was charged for each point each month, less than four points were not given as a rule. "Whether the lights were kept burning or not, five rupees had to be paid and the charge would be the same even if they were kept on through all the twenty-four hours."

Amrita had no occasion to go upstairs. Sometimes Sri Aurobindo would come down and "if I happened to be there— well, my good luck." Apart from Ramaswamy, the young Tamilian had struck up quite a friendship with Bejoy Nag. The latter "used to send letters twice or thrice a month by registered post ...to Chandernagore. As intimacy with him grew, he began to send letters through me. There was no fixed hours for this work. He used to send me at any time between 12 and 3 p.m. He ordered me not to disclose this posting of letters to anyone."

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Sri Aurobindo with Amrita (right) at the Guest House in 1920

It was at the French post office that the boy posted the letters, and it worked much of the time. "Now and then, however, the British Secret Police would persuade the French postal authorities or their subordinates, and procure letters addressed to Sri Aurobindo or those coming to V. V. S. Aiyar from Europe, open them and after scrutiny seal them back before handing them over to the postal authority." Such at least was the strong rumour doing the rounds.

After Ramaswamy Iyengar left Pondicherry, sometime in May '14, seeing the desolate young boy Bejoy's heart was moved. One day, at noon, as young Amrita entered the Guest House, as the house later came to be called, he found Bejoy waiting for him in the verandah downstairs. On "seeing me, he called me to him, his face smiling. I too approached him with a heart full of delight, not knowing why. He then said, 'I told Sri Aurobindo about you and also told him about your strong desire to see him.' Bejoy Kanta added, 'I was just thinking how and through whom to send for you. Come up, let's go.' "

It was high noon, 12 or 12:15, as Amrita climbed up the stairs behind Bejoy. "It was for the first time I got up to the first floor of Sri Aurobindo's house." Later, when he became more familiar, he noticed that the upper, covered verandah where Sri Aurobindo received visitors, was "somewhat beautified. One old cracked table, two armchairs, four or five folding armless chairs with back-rest—these were borrowed and arranged there, luckily with no binding to return them."

But on that first day—it remained etched in his memory— it was a scene bathed in light. "In the long verandah overlooking the wide courtyard below, there were big windows giving a

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wide view southwards ... all the doors of all the rooms were open.... Everywhere and on everything there fell an all-revealing

light, nothing but light ... no spot hidden from light My heart too, wide-open, soared up in sheer delight! I was in this state and Sri Aurobindo stood there, his eyes gazing southwards His small feet appeared to my eyes as two red lotuses.

His hair partly hung on his chest, partly on his back. It was still wet from his bath; water dripped from its ends. His bare broad chest shone in great beauty." Amrita stood at the head of the long corridor. "As I just stood there, Sri Aurobindo, who was about twenty feet away, turned his eyes upon me. Whether I walked to him or took a leap to him, I do not know.... My being unknowingly swam, as it were, in a sea of silence, it fell prostrate at the lotus-feet of the Master ... lay there body, life and mind all together a single block. Sri Aurobindo touched me with his flower-like hands and made me stand up. I drank the drink he

gave me I do not know why I burst into sobs as I clasped him.

Tears streamed down from my eyes."

Then days passed. Ten or fifteen days later Amrita again took recourse to Bejoy, who obtained Sri Aurobindo's permission. That very evening, as soon as the school was over, Amrita flew like an arrow to the Guest House. Bejoy was waiting. "He was in uniform ready to go out for football at Odeon salai. As I reached there he took me up straight to Sri Aurobindo's room. "I saw Sri Aurobindo the second time thus: "He was in his room seated in a wooden chair beside a table, writing something in a book, facing west. He moved his book a little, faced south and welcomed us both with a gleam of kindness in his eyes. I looked at him and when after a minute

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I turned I found Bejoy Kanta was no longer by my side." Bejoy had left for his football without a moment's delay.

"He and I alone! None else! Solitude! Seated he kept on looking at me and I too drowned myself in his sacred look."

At the time Amrita was barely able to put two words together in English. He somehow managed with Bejoy, in very broken English which was, however, slightly better than Bejoy's Tamil. But even those two words almost failed him as he stood tongue-tied in front of Sri Aurobindo. With an Herculean effort he just managed: "I want come daily see you!"

Sri Aurobindo graciously complied with the request and

"asked me to come after five in the evening From the very

next day, I began going straight from school at 5 p.m. to Sri Aurobindo's house to see him. Before I reached there—a little later than five-fifteen—Sri Aurobindo would come out of his room and sit on the west side of the southern terrace. I used to stand before him and go on talking. I would forget then that I knew little English. Day after day I would tell him fluently and unwaveringly my home-story, etc., trying to make the details as vivid and elaborate as possible. I knew no halt... I played the role of the speaker.... He would hardly ever put in more than a word or two." Thus for months every evening from 5:30 to 6:30 the young Tamil lad talked with Sri Aurobindo, and then returned home.

The year 1914 began to draw to its close. The next year in March the boy had to sit for his Matriculation examination to be held in Madras. Sri Aurobindo told him simply that "he expected it of me to pass the examination and make arrangements for further studies." In February 1915 Amrita was short

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of Rs. 9/-for the deposit. When all his efforts failed and he did not know how to make up that deficit, he put his problem before Sri Aurobindo. The next day "when I went to him, he handed over to me the sum of Rs. 9/- and ordered me to deposit the fee. Astounded and forgetful I stood statuelike in his presence."

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