Memories of First Darshan

My Supreme Discovery

SOME of the greatest and most important discoveries have been made through sheer accident, for example Columbus's discovery of America and Newton's discovery of the Law of Gravitation. The Supreme Discovery of my life has also been the result of a mere chance.

It so happened that in December 1939, my esteemed and valued friend, Dr. Indra Sen and myself decided to undertake Bharat Yatra, not so much to see the different provinces and places but mainly to make a study of the diverse cultures of our peoples. Our combination was rather curious — Dr. Indra Sen, a man of great learning and erudition (he was then the Professor of Philosophy and Psychology at the Hindu College, Delhi) and I, a businessman with a flair for politics.

When my wife came to know of our conspiracy, she insisted on our taking our son Anil, who was then only nine and also a servant to look after Anil.

So we made all the necessary arrangements and purchased zonal tickets which with the route map printed in colour looked more like passports describing in detail and with great beauty the whole route — Delhi, Mathura, Agra, Aligarh, Kanpur, Lucknow, Allahabad, Benaras, Patna, Calcutta, Puri, Bhubaneshwar, Vishakapattnam, Bezwada, Madras, Bangalore, Mysore, Hyderabad, Sholapur, Poona, Bombay, Surat, Baroda, Ahmedabad, Ajmer, Jaipur and back to Delhi. Believe it or not, the ticket cost Rs. 36/8 as.

The journey was naturally eventful. Though our train was not a 'Pilgrim Special', yet we did not have to spend even an anna on our lodging anywhere. We had so planned our schedule that we spent the day in seeing and visiting places and the night on the train. Out of the train, we always took shelter and lodged under some thick and big tree near the railway station. The servant looked after the luggage and cooked the food, and after taking our meals, we would go to the town, city, village, temple or historical places, as the case may be returning to our 'Lodge' late in the evening with sufficient time to have our dinner and board the train for our next destination. Sometimes we managed to cook even in the compartment. That was possible in those days when people were not so crazy for travelling and there used to be enough space in the trains even to use them as play-grounds.

Needless to say that economy was an overriding factor with us. Apart from the above-mentioned measures, we avoided the use of any transport as far as possible, as in those days legs used to be certainly stronger, more mobile and quicker than they are today. Also, we never spent anything on coolies because the heavier load was carried by the servant and the rest by Dr. Indra Sen and me. Anil was responsible for carrying the basket. And can you imagine the result of all that? We did not even have any exact idea of it at that time. But after the conclusion of this over-a-month-long tour of almost the whole subcontinent, when we made the final account, the total expense, including the cost of both the zonal railway tickets, worked out to be a 'fantastic' figure! — Rs. 75/12 as. per head all told.

About ten days after the commencement of our journey, we reached Madras. . . .

The journey down and across the South was both pleasing and revealing. . . .

When we reached Rameshwaram on the Eastern Coast, we came to know that only a few miles down was the station from where people embarked for Ceylon which was only 40 miles beyond the sea. It was obviously too big a temptation to resist. . . .

On our way back from Ceylon, somebody told us that on the off side railway line lay Pondicherry — French India where there was an Ashram of an Indian Yogi. The lure of visiting yet another foreign territory and the Ashram in that far-fetched corner of our subcontinent proved too strong. Moreover, I thought that by visiting Pondicherry I could tell my friends back home that I was 'Foreign-Returned' having been to two foreign lands including a part of the fascinating country called France. Thus we took a train for Pondicherry where we hoped to spend just an evening and the night.

My first surprise after passing through the streets of Pondicherry was that it was anything but a foreign or French territory. Almost in every way and every inch, it was like any other town of the Madras State — same people, of same stature and complexion, wearing the same dresses and speaking the same Tamil language. Surprise was again my immediate reaction on first seeing the Ashram building. It appeared as one of the many buildings that dotted the area. We saw no such distinctive feature in the design and architecture of the building that could even faintly suggest that it was an Ashram. When we got inside the building we saw a number of people, all in simple and neat dresses, and some even in pants and coats, but no saints or sannyasins, no monks or mahants, no shaven heads or jata-dharis, no bare-bodied bhaktas or saffron-robed sadhus, no tilak-dharis or kanphatas. Neither did we spot any temple, moortis or granths.

However, our enquiries solicited for us the information that the Yogi, the Master of Sri Aurobindo Ashram, had his abode on the first floor of the building. To be precise, I heard to my great amazement and dismay that Sri Aurobindo had never stirred out of his room for the past 14 years. However, I was disappointed to know that not only we, but in fact virtually nobody could see Sri Aurobindo and that only four times in a year, on Darshan Days, people could see him. And seeing meant just having a fleeting glimpse from a distance — no talks, discussions or conversations.

All this sounded so intriguing to me! But that was not the end of it. I was further told that there was also the Mother in the Ashram, a French lady. A French lady and Mother of the Ashram founded by an Indian Yogi! It only further accentuated the atmosphere of surprise and suspense — though these peculiar revelations had naturally heightened my curiosity and keenness to unravel this mystery which was deepening and becoming more and more fascinating with every new bit of information.

What then was to be done! What for had we gone there? We could not see the sage, we could not interview the Mother, there was no kirtan or katha, no preaching or prayers, no shiksha or sermons, no bhajans or artis, no discourses or discussions, no havans or yajnas, no asanas or pranayam, no mantras or meetings! Then what sort of an ashram was this? It was so bewildering! At last someone told us that meditation was held in the evening which we could join.

As directed, we reached the Meditation Hall at about 7 p.m. A few scores of men and women were already seated there with their eyes closed, lips virtually sealed and heads bowed. All the lights had been put out and in the total darkness there was just a glimmer of light. It was so quiet and calm! The atmosphere of meditation was infectious and I felt a strong prompting to join it and close my eyes. But I wanted to see what was to happen, hence I kept watching intently.

Now there was a complete hush. But lo! my eyes suddenly beheld something which looked so utterly superb but so dream-like. A slender lady, draped in light and wearing a gold mukut on her forehead was lightly stepping down on the heavily carpeted curved staircase. In her gait there was majesty, in her face a glowing grace and her eyes flashed gleams that pierced the darkness below and around. My gaze was fixed on that fairy-like figure whose calm and beautiful face was radiating light and making the whole atmosphere so supernatural that she looked every inch an angel descending from Heaven.

She now stopped and stood at the bend of the staircase, her wide open eyes surveying the scene from one end of the hall to the other. In a few moments, she went into a trance which made her look even more rapturous. While she stood there statue-like, I felt as if she was suddenly soaring above. Though her eyelids were now locked in embrace, yet I almost saw them passing sweet messages and exchanging glances with something or somebody that was not perceptible. All her limbs seemed blended in harmony and her entire figure was wrapped in ecstasy. The halo of serenity and divinity around her was like a circular rainbow in the multi-colours of which my eyes perceived visionary images and indications.

And now suddenly a smile dawned on her lips and with the speed of lightning it stole across her cheeks, eyes, the whole face. The smile blossomed into a flower and then the petals of blessings and grace showered down on the entranced devotees, who, in deep gratitude, uplifted their eyes, only to behold that she suddenly turned to return to her abode. Her departure was as blissful and mysterious as her advent and my racing gaze in a few moments lost the heavenly track on which trod that divine figure.

As the congregation dispersed, we learnt that she was the Mother — the French lady.

That night as I lay asleep, I underwent strange but sweet experiences. A train of dreams ran on the rails of my mind. That majestic personification of grace and beauty, of love and life appeared on the screen of my mind like a continuously running film. I woke up so light in body as if I had lost some part of it and yet the loss seemed so sweet and exhilarating. There were some peculiar sensations brewing within my heart which I could not fathom. Something had happened though I knew not what it was.

When we left the town, the morning after that fateful and momentous evening, I could clearly see that my destiny had been decided and the die had been cast. I knew that I was leaving only to return and return again and again. As the train steamed out homewards, I felt as if I had found my real home. I was sad to leave but also happy — happy over my luck because the fleeting glance of a few moments had brought to me privileges which the toil of a whole life often fails to achieve.

This was, then, the Supreme Discovery of my life, the miracle of Pondicherry where I lost my heart and won the soul and the real life.

- Surendranath Jauhar

(My Mother by Surendranath Jauhar published by Sri Aurobindo Ashram, Delhi Branch, 1982, pp. 1–7)