Sri Aurobindo - A dream-dialogue with children

The Ashram Children And Sri Aurobindo’s Life—A Dream-Dialogue

One day after Sri Aurobindo's passing, I had a dream. I saw that quite a number of children of our Ashram from various age-groups had crowded into Sri Aurobindo's room and were looking around with curious eyes. I wondered how they had trespassed on Sri Aurobindo's privacy. Who could have given them permission? But the children took no notice of my presence and felt quite at ease. This spectacle of innocence and light-heartedness gave me the inspiration to write the following book.

At the very doorway of Sri Aurobindo's room, I stood dumbfounded. He was reclining on his bed with so many little children seated all around him! What were they doing here? He lay there, gently smiling like a golden god, his upper body bare and beautiful like Shiva's, chatting intimately just as he used to do with us. But how on earth did they enter this forbidden place? Who let them in? Puzzled,! turned to Champaklal who was quietly standing behind Sri Aurobindo. A naughty smile was playing on his lips, and with every nod of his head his white beard bobbed up and down as if to say - "Do you think Sri Aurobindo is your personal property?"

Baffled, I turned my head to look again at the children. They were not all of the same age, and a few faces were quite familiar. Dressed, some in green shorts and some in red, they all wore a look of shining calm. Their eyes, specially, were bright with an eager and close expectancy. Sri Aurobindo looked straight in front and his voice was low and soft and quiet. Finally I too joined the children. One of them was saying: "It seems you have said many beautiful

Page 1

things to grown-ups. Please tell us something too."

"I have spoken all about big things. You won't understand them." "Then tell us some stories. You have read lots of books, we're told. Do tell us something from them. The Mother has narrated to us so many things. Now it's your turn."

"No, no, no stories," interrupted another young one. "Tell us about your childhood, of when you were like us."

"Oh! that was a long time ago. And how can one remember all about one's childhood? You'll see, when you grow as old as I am, that you too will have forgotten much about today."

"But we'll never forget this moment with you.... By the way, how are we to address you? The Mother we call 'Douce Mère'. Shall we then call you 'Doux Père'?"

Sri Aurobindo burst out laughing. "I don't think it would suit me," he said.

"We have heard that you went to England at the age of 7. How could you live there, so far away from your parents? What did you eat? Rice and curry? Do the foreigners eat only beef? Did you have to speak English all the time? Did your teachers beat or scold you?"

"Good Lord! so many questions, all at once! I think I had better start from the very beginning. You know, I had a father who was rather special. He had westernised himself completely in his clothes and behaviour.... But probably his taste in food was Bengali. He always wore a hat and coat and spoke in a clipped accent. Only with the servants did he speak in Hindi and, very seldom, in Bengali. And yet he was a Bengali gentleman. Strange, isn't it? Actually, he was a doctor with a British medical degree, somewhat like your Dr. Sanyal. But Dr. Sanyal is always dressed like a Bengali and speaks like one. My father was completely different. After having lived with the English in England, he had come to believe that they were rather wonderful. And so he decided that he would give his children a thorough western education. Therefore he enforced a strict rule - no Bengali

Page 2

in his house, and if one needed to communicate with the servants, it was to be in Hindi. Since my father was a government Civil Surgeon, we had plenty of servants. This reminds me of the poem by Nishikanto - have you read it? 'The King has made you King and given you servants and maids a-plenty....' By the way, you know him, don't you?"

"Of course! We all call him Kobida rather than Nishikanto, since he wanders about with a dreamy look in his eyes, like a typical poet, and even mutters to himself, sometimes. But tell us about your mother. Did she too speak English?"

"Certainly not. She didn't care at all for these foreign ways. That reminds me of a funny thing that happened once. One day, my elder brother, Manomohan, who loved aping western manners, dressed up like a pucca sahib-boy and went to our mother calling her: 'Mummy, mummy!' She was very annoyed, and snapped at him: 'Go to your father and call him Daddy. I don't like these ways.' Manomohan's face fell and he went away, downcast.

"But, you know, my father, even though he was every inch a sahib, loved his motherland very deeply. He wanted her to be great and strong, like the nations of Europe. Also, he never charged the poor when he treated them, and even went out of his way to help them get over their difficulties. They loved him whole-heartedly and called him 'the Lord of Rangpur'. To them, he was greater than any sahib. You have heard of Rangpur, haven't you? That's where Nolini comes from. From there, the family moved to Khulna, where Sudhir Sarkar comes from.

"Do you know, your Monada's father?"

"Yes, Sudhirda, Sameer's grandfather, who was with you in prison," said Vinit.

"You in prison?" exclaimed a horrified little girl. "But aren't prisons places where bad people are put, where thieves, and wrong-doers are punished?"

"Well, you may say that I was a wrong-doer since I was charged with treason, that is to say, I rose against the King.

Page 3

"As I was saying, my father wanted his sons to become great scholars in English and hoped that someday they would become magistrates and judges."

"Must one speak English from childhood in order to do that?"

"Not really, but perhaps he intended to send his sons to England later and hence the English education. Anyway, he always believed that the westerners were a superior race in every way, which was why they were ruling the world. And if anyone wanted to become great, the only way was by imitating them. Especially since, in those days, the English were our rulers. In fact, you know, many great people in our country thought the same way then, and imitated the foreigners in speech, clothing and manners. People were in awe of them; even the European soldiers and policemen would make them quake. Things have changed now. India is free, maybe it's even the other way round and we strike fear in the hearts of the white race! But do you know who was the root cause of this change? Bankim. Ever heard of Bankim?"

"We have, we have. He wrote 'Bande Mataram', didn't he? Our band plays that song on Darshan days when the Mother takes the salute."

"The very same Bankim. A great man. You ought to read his Anandamath. The Swadeshi Movement in which we all took part came much after him."

"What's that?"

"Haven't you heard of the non-violent rebellion of Gandhi? Ours, the Swadeshi revolt, came much earlier. You'll learn about these things when you grow up. That was the reason I was sent to prison. See how fate seems to laugh at us. My father had wanted us to grow into Englishmen and there we were, the very ones who in the end began throwing the English out of the country!... If only you could see how things were in those days! Even boys of your age were all fired with the dream of Freedom...."

"Only boys? Weren't there any girls?" asked Kriti.

Page 4

"No, not really. If there had been some, things would have been much better and freedom come to us much faster. But anyway our mothers and sisters did help us, though in another manner. They did not try to hold back their sons and brothers who never ceased to chant 'Bande. Mataram' even while the blows from the English canes and batons rained on them. What fiery little fellows they were!"

"We've seen them here."

"Where?"

"In the film - 'Bagha Jatin', the one who was our Tejenda's father. You too were there in that film, you know. But in it you didn't look half as beautiful - as you really are."

"Is that so? Oh! then you know something of the Swadeshi Movement already. Yes, Bagha Jatin was one of the bravest of the brave. But look, we have again strayed from our story."

"That doesn't matter. We know so little of our country too."

"But why? I'm told that Nolini tells you about all this."

"He reads his articles late at night and, because we're too sleepy then, our parents don't always let us attend those classes. And his language is often too difficult for us to follow. Anyway, we're hearing all about it from you. Usually we don't get to see you. By the way, we'd like to ask you something. We've heard that you have been living in this room for years, that you never go out: Why is that? Don't you feel bored and lonely?"

"No, not at all. For actually I am not lonely. I have someone, whom if you ever find, you will never want anyone else in the world."

"Who is that? The Mother?"

"Yes, the Mother."

"But she goes out. She plays with us and talks to us. Then why do you stay so aloof? What do you do all day?"

"That's a long story which you will understand when you grow up. In simple words, I am doing this to help you to help the world."

Page 5

"So you will live like this all your life?"

"No, only till the day what I have called the Supermind descends upon the earth. After that day I will come out among you. To hasten it you too must make earnest efforts of Tapasya."

"Goodness! That's almost impossible. What do we know of Tapasya?"

"Tapasya is nothing else but calling the Lord with absolute single-mindedness. Call Him and tell Him that you want to see Him, to know Him. You are children, simple and beautiful within. The Divine will surely answer your heart-felt call. Haven't you heard of Dhruva and Prahlada? Jesus Christ also says that little children come easily to the Lord. Have you heard of him, of Christ?"

"Yes. Wasn't he crucified?"

"Yes. He suffered pain for the sake of the world."

"Did you call the Divine when you were little?"

"No, nobody taught us to do so. Father wished us to become sahibs and so we did. The day I understood that I must love my motherland and make her great and free, I gave up being a sahib. Then, again, the moment I realised that Godhead should be our aim, I began trying to obtain it. Sri Ramakrishna used to tell children of even your age - 'Call the Mother, make demands on her. Can she deny or disregard her own children?' In the same way, you all too should pray to the Mother, ask her to make you beautiful and pure, that you may love her and serve her. My father never thought of those things. He had only one bee in his bonnet: by what means should he make his sons thoroughly westernised so that they might become great. No thought of God in all that. In fact, he didn't believe in God. And his son had to grow up into a Yogi!"

"A Yogi? What's a Yogi?" asked Sachet. . "One who realises the Divine or who endeavours single-mindedly to do so."

"What is the Divine like?"

"Like? That's hard to describe, but if one finds Him, all

Page 6

man's sufferings will disappear. Men will love one another, since God is Love."

"Then why did you tell us to love the Mother? Is she the Divine?"

"Yes, she is. That's just why you call her the Divine Mother."

"Why was she born in France? And how did she come here?"

"Ah! that's a very long story. I think I ought to finish my earlier story first - the one which explains how I went to England. I've told you how much my father wanted my brothers and me to grow up into sahibs. When he found that in spite of everything his efforts were not quite successful, that there were many difficulties in the way, he first packed us off to far-off Darjeeling. I was then 5 years old, just like some of you here, who live away from your parents. But then you have found the Mother here and live in bliss. Isn't that so?"

"It is!" said the children in a chorus.

"We had all British teachers and tutors. There were a few other Indian boys but we hardly knew them. I remember something funny about Manomohan. In Darjeeling there was a long dormitory where the students used to sleep. Manomohan usually slept near the door. One night someone was late and knocked at the door, requesting him to open it. Manomohan replied, 'I can't, I am sleeping!' (Laughter)

"Darjeeling town was, of course, very pretty. You have seen it, haven't you, at least in pictures?"

"Yes, we have, often. And the great snow-piled Himalayas in the background. But the people there are quite strange-looking, in their appearance and clothing."

"They are Tibetan, that's why. Nowadays Darjeeling has grown into a big town bustling with people; in those days it was smaller and sat singly on the hillside, wonderful in its natural beauty. Its fruits and flowers, its waterfalls and its bird-song and even the friendly simplicity of its people made

Page 7

a deep impression on our unlettered minds. During my walks in the mornings and evenings, the play of snow and sky on those peaks used to hold me spellbound. I used to feel one with mountain and hill, with earth and trees. The fact that both of us, brothers, grew up later to become poets was helped, I believe, by the Himalayas which etched their grandeur on our child-minds."

"But didn't you go home for the holidays?"

"Of course, we did. Sometimes we also went to Deoghar, to my grandfather's."

"Did you have to speak English even there?"

"Oh no! Grandfather was very patriotic and proud to be an Indian. Not at all like Father. He was called Rishi Rajnarayan Bose and, indeed, he did look like a Rishi, a sage, with his flowing white hair and beard and his eversmiling face. And he was so learned and wise. He told us stories from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Sometimes he used to take us out for long walks. One evening, on our way home, it had grown quite dark when suddenly we found that Grandfather had disappeared. 'Grandfather, Grandfather,' we called out terrified. We turned to look in all directions, then ran back part of the way where we found him standing, fast asleep, like a horse! It was our loud laughter that woke him up.

"My mother's eldest brother was very fun-loving and mischievous. He loved to tease me. One day when he was shaving, he called me - I was dressed in western clothes - and said pointing at my reflection in the mirror, 'Look, there is a small monkey!' I did not forget the joke. When on another day my uncle was shaving, I went to him and said pointing at his image in the mirror, 'Look, big uncle, big monkey!' " {Loud laughter)

"In western clothes you look exactly like a European boy."

"You think so? How do you know?"

"Why? We've got your picture."

"Oh! that picture!"

Page 8

"Do tell us some stories of your life in England," requested Sachet.

"Not today, another time. It's time for the Mother to come now...."

And there she was standing at the door. All the children stood up.

"What's going on? How did you all gather here?" she asked smiling. "Listening to stories, are you? But now it is getting late, you should all be going home."

"Yes, Sweet Mother, but we would like to come again to hear about Sri Aurobindo's life in England."

So saying, they all turned towards Sri Aurobindo and slowly filed out of the room. Silently he watched them go, a blessing in his eyes.

I turned to look at the Mother. This was not the ten-armed goddess of Rishi Bankim nor the Mother of Sri Ramakrishna garlanded with human heads. No, she was our delightful Mother in flesh and blood.

She said, frowning at me - "Why not?" I understood. Yes, thou art indeed that Mother. The ten directions are thy arms, O many-weaponed destroyer of Evil who ridest on the mighty Lion. On thy right hast thou Lakshmi, the fair and fortunate, on thy left Saraswati, mother of Art and Science, the mighty victor Kartik is with thee and so is Ganesh, the master of all realisations. And now, wearing a mortal frame, thou hast descended upon earth, the "Mother" given us by Sri Aurobindo.

She entered Sri Aurobindo's room, smiling radiantly, holding a glass of ice-cold water on a plate. A pale pink sari was softly wrapped around her fair delicate frame and her hair was drawn back in a bun. Fresh from her bath, she wafted grace and beauty. Her red-tinted feet glistening with gold anklets wore a pair of white sandals with golden straps. She came into the room and instantly it was filled with light and sweetness and perfume.

Champaklal and I turned eagerly towards Sri Aurobindo. Leaning against the back-rest, he was watching the Mother.

Page 9

His hair fell over his broad shoulders, his silky white beard stirred in the breeze of the fan. The right leg was stretched out before him, while the left one was bent and the left elbow rested on the hard bolster beside him.

He sat up straight as the Mother neared him and with a broad smile took the glass that she gave him. She sat down on the edge of the bed while he sipped the water slowly, ever so slowly. Not water, surely it was nectar. Then the Mother turned to glance at us and we moved away. They talked for a while. Before she left the room she looked again towards us and said in a clear ringing voice - "This evening the children will come again."

Evening. Sri Aurobindo seemed to be waiting for his young guests. His eyes were closed.

The little children assembled very silently in the outer hall, since Champaklal was signalling to them with his finger on his lips to keep quiet. Then he led them in one by one and placed them around three sides of the bed, like a garland. They all stood, with folded hands, silent, unblinkingly gazing on the Lord's face. In their green and red uniforms, they no longer reminded me of Shiva's companions but of Durga's soldiers.

Sri Aurobindo opened his eyes and with a smile said, "So you have come? Good. Sit down." One little girl suddenly touched his feet and made obeisance, and then they all followed suit.

"Didn't you know we were coming?"

"Of course, I did. The Mother had told me. In any case, I already knew."

"You knew? How?"

"Well, you see, whoever calls to us, thinks of us, loves us and is devoted to us, comes close to us, and their thoughts, feelings and experiences reach us faster than radio-waves."

"So you can find out all about us, even though you never leave your room?"

"This sounds exactly like one of Dr. Manilal's questions. Have you heard of Dr. Manilal? He was the Chief Physician

Page 10

of the Maharaja of Baroda. Baroda is where Champaklal comes from, where I used to live, long ago. Well, he too used to ask me childlike questions. He believed we knew everything about everything. But does that mean we have got to know what your mothers have cooked for lunch?"

"But then, when... we... are... naughty? Even that?" asked Aloka.

Sri Aurobindo laughed at these last words that were fearfully stammered out. "Children are usually naughty. What is so surprising about that?" he smiled. The girl felt very relieved. "But we know all we need to for our work," he continued. "You understand?"

"Not quite, but...." Just then a girl rushed in, panting and tearful. "The others left me behind," she cried out, weeping.

"Oh! is that so?" Sri Aurobindo turned his head towards Champaklal who took the child to the bathroom nearby. She washed her face, drank some water and, much calmed, came out and joined the others.

"Where was I? Oh! whether I knew all about you? You see, it's not easy to explain."

"We saw in the film 'Sri Ramakrishna' that he could see and hear at a distance," said Sudeep.

"Something like that. All Yogis have such powers. But why only Yogis, even your mothers can sense if danger or ill-fortune approaches you."

"Oh yes. I remember our Bengali teacher telling us about something like that happening to Bijoy Krishna Goswami."

"Bijoy Goswami? What was his story?"

"Well, when he was a small boy, he had gone to Puri on a pilgrimage, but his mother had stayed back home. When a big stone hurt his foot, the boy began to weep, 'Ma! Ma!' Well, after he came back his mother asked him if he had been crying out for her because he had hurt his foot on a stone. 'Yes, Ma,' answered the child. 'The other afternoon', continued the mother, 'I was resting in my room when I felt a stone strike my foot and I heard you cry out. I looked

Page 11

everywhere, but didn't find anyone or anything. Then I understood for sure that it was your foot that had been hurt.' 'How did you hear my voice?' asked her son. But his mother answered that mothers could do things like that."

"Yes, that is a beautiful example. Did you know that Bijoy Goswami became a famous Yogi? Anyway, from this story you learn that if human mothers can have such experiences, then how much more may the Divine Mother have."

"Yes, the Mother too has told us that she is always with us, sees and knows all that we are doing arid is helping us all the time."

"Exactly! Well, perhaps now we could return to our main story. Does anyone remember where we stopped last time?"

"Of course! It was that your father sent you and your brothers to England."

"He didn't send us, he took us there with him. We all went, our mother, we three brothers and our little sister Sarojini. Nowadays travelling to England is a commonplace affair. Even here, sitting in the small town of Pondicherry, you get to know about the whole world, you can see Europe, America, China and Japan and all the rest in pictures and films. In the Ashram itself you can meet and make friends with people from all over the world."

"That's true. But I wonder why certain people sometimes scare me."

"Scare you? Why? Fear is born of ignorance. But if we enter into these discussions, I'm afraid we may lose our-selves in a dense jungle. So I think I had better leave the subject for your teachers to tell you about. You know, some races have sharp features, while others have snub ones. Similarly, mankind speaks various languages. Even in our country there is so much diversity. You see, manifold are the Lord's ways. Sitting right here, in the Ashram, which may be described in Tagore's words as 'the beaches of the vast ocean of humanity', you can discover so many mysteries of the visible and in visible worlds. In the Puranas it is said

Page 12

that Ganesh covered the whole universe by running around his mother Parvati."

"How is that?" asked Vinit.

"Don't you know the legend? It says that Shiva and Parvati had two sons, Kartik and Ganesh. You all know what Ganesh looks like, don't you?"

"Yes! He has a fat round belly and a long trunk," replied Anshu.

"Well then, it was decided that one of them would get married. But which one? Finally they were told that he who would go round the world first would be the winner. Kartik was overjoyed, he was swift and strong and, moreover, the Peacock was his mount. So he set out right away, confident and cheerful. Not so Ganesh who was aware that apart from being rather overweight, he had only a Rat for his mount, and so he could certainly be no match for Kartik. But being very intelligent and wise, he decided to go round his parents. He did so and when Kartik returned, tired and panting, he found Ganesh calmly sitting on his mother's lap and claiming to be the victor. When Kartik demanded how this could be, he answered very calmly - 'Why? Isn't it written in the Scriptures that one's parents are the whole universe!' And so poor Kartik lost.... Well, in our days, there was neither any Ganesh nor the World-Mother Parvati, and so we had to cross the seven seas and the thirteen rivers. Crossing the 'black waters' was a daring feat."

"The 'black waters'?"

"Yes, black stood for something unknown and fearful, and waters meant the ocean. That is why all my father's relatives and friends tried their best to stop us from going to England. Actually my father was one of the first Indians to have gone to study in England. And now he intended to return there with his wife and children. My father was an extremely strong-willed person and would always do whatever he thought best in spite of anything anyone else might say or think, including the Lord God! Actually he didn't even believe in God. In those days many people had all sorts

Page 13

of strange notions about England and it is because of them that Dwijendralal Roy wrote his ironical poem. Here it is - "

Sri Aurobindo began to recite slowly the translation:

"England's soil is made of mud, 'tis not silver nor gold,
Into England's sky rises the sun, England's clouds bring down the rain;
Its mountains are made of rocks, and on its trees blossom flowers,
You may not believe this, friend, but 'tis so, 'tis so.
And if you do go there, O friend, you too will say 'tis so.
There in England, men are men and all its women just women.
And young and old and fat or strong, they all must eat to live.
All their heads are on the top, their feet are down below.
Smile not, my friend, nor doubt me for I do know 'tis so,
And if you do go there, dear friend, you too will say 'tis so. (Laughter)

"But all this is far back in the past. Nowadays the black waters have become white." (Laughter)

"Have you seen the white waters?" asked Rohit.

"Of course, I have. The blue sky above, the blue-green waters below where the fresh white foam runs and plays like little rabbits! And there we were, brown sahibs on a white ship, with Mother and Father and a sister, young and sweet like you. On the ship my brother Manomohan was very happy, almost bursting with joy. In fact, now and then, his thrill and pleasure would seem so excessive that Father had even to rebuke him."

Page 14

"And you too?"

"No, I wasn't like that. I was a rather timid boy who often loved to be by myself and read books. That was why, perhaps, Father loved me so dearly. I remember the shock my first impression of London gave me. The crowds and the noise and the traffic made it difficult almost to breathe. After the peace of Khulna, Deoghar with its hills and Darjeeling surrounded by its mountains and snows, this place with its tall houses from the top of which long spires of smoke rose into the sky was a new and not a very pleasant experience. Do you know Tagore's vivid simile about London — as if the city were lying flat on its back and smoking a huge Burma-cheroot, (loud laughter) while its smoke blackened with annoyance the face of its sky, just as your faces darken with anger when your teachers scold you!"

"No, no, no one scolds us. The Mother does not approve of scolding or caning, and, anyway, our teachers are our elder brothers and sisters, like Pavitrada, Sisirda, Nirodda, Sanatda, Manojda, Aratidi, Amitadi and Parudi and so many more. Don't you know them?"

"Yes, I do....

"Another thing that amazed me in England at first was the fact that even the servants and porters were all white! I hadn't read D. L. Roy's song then, you see. The porters called us 'Sir', and carried our luggage. They were so different from the sahibs in India where even the smallest white man behaved like a lord! So that even at that tender age, my heart cried out - 'Who would live a bondslave knowing no freedom!' Now you are free."

"Did you then take a vow to free your motherland even though you were just a schoolboy?"

"Yes, I did, but my father is partly responsible for that."

"How? He had wanted to turn you into westernised gentlemen."

"Just westernised! My goodness! When he left the three of us at the house of Mr. Drewett in Manchester, he

Page 15

requested the latter, specifically, not to let us meet any Indians or read any Indian books and newspapers so that we might become full-Hedged sahibs. Though afterwards he did change his way of thinking. But we'll talk about that later."

"You seem to put off many things! You're sure you won't forget them by then?"

Sri Aurobindo laughed. "You'll remind me, if I do so, won't you? Now back to our story. Father left us at Manchester and our mother in London and then returned home. That was the last time I saw him."

"Last time? Why?"

"Because he died just before I came back, and this is partly due to me."

"How is that?"

"You see, he was ill and then he received, mistakenly, an unfortunate piece of news, that the ship on which I was to travel had sunk in mid-sea, so that he believed I had been drowned. The grief and the shock were too much for him to bear and he is said to have died crying out my name 'Auro, Auro!' to his last breath." All the children heaved a deep sigh.

"Your father loved you dearly as you told us the other day."

"He loved everyone because he was very large-hearted. But perhaps he had a special fondness for me and he hoped that someday I would become an important man - for example,'a judge or a magistrate. In those days, to become a judge or a magistrate was to reach the crown of one's career.

"By the way, do you know why he gave the name 'Aurobindo'?"

"No."

"Father decided that his son would have a name that was as new as it was unique; nobody had ever been called 'Aurobindo' before. And he hoped that his son would be as unique and unequalled in his life and character as he was in his name. Nowadays, of course, this name is given quite

Page 16

commonly, I find. And then there are Aurobala, Aurosharan, Aurovrata; even Arvind Mills, Arvind Restaurant! Is any of you here named Aurobindo?"

All the children shouted excitedly, pointing at a very sweet timid boy, "He is Aurobindoprasad!"

"But then all these names are given after you, Sir," said Aurobindoprasad.

Sri Aurobindo smiled and looked at a child who was ready to speak -

"Sir, how could your father leave your mother alone in London and come back home?"

"Well, Father was like that. And my mother wasn't quite alone, really. Father had left her in the care of a friend of his, an English doctor. My mother was expecting a child, She wasn't a typically timid Bengali girl, either. Firstly she was a Brahmo. In those days, the Brahmo Samaj allowed its women both education and freedom. My grandfather had seen to it that his daughter studied literature and several other subjects. Secondly, after marriage, she was encouraged by Father to be very modern and she met and ate with her many Indian and English friends very freely. She could even ride a horse. Did you know that?"

"Did she dress like an Englishwoman when she was in England?"

"Not at all! Only nowadays, after Independence, Indian women are up to date and wear western clothes. My mother always wore a sari and when she walked down the street dressed in it people really stopped to stare because she was, as Barin used to say, 'terribly beautiful'! It was as though Mother Lakshmi herself had come down on earth. In Rangpur, she was known as 'the Rose of Rangpur'. The sari is so very graceful, though Nirod might not agree."

The children turned to smile at me, as if saying, "There he is, trying hard not to smile!"

"Someone told me that nowadays our girls wear skirts or punjabi instead of saris?"

"So we do!" admitted Udita.

Page 17

"You all are still very little; you are not old enough to understand the aesthetics of the sari. Anyway, let's talk of other things. Where was I? Oh yes! So Father came back home, leaving our mother in London and us brothers in Manchester. Barin was born in a few months' time. You must have heard about his later career. He might have been hanged from the gallows."

"How's that?"

"Well, in all the films about Swadeshi and Independence that you have seen, haven't you noticed how many youngsters were hanged?"

"Oh! so that's what you meant when you said 'gallows'. We were wondering what sort of structure it was. By the way, why would your brother Barin have been hanged?"

Sri Aurobindo said laughing, "Good Lord! Your question sounds very much like Nirod's! He asked me once - 'Sir, were you the real leader of the Swadeshi Movement?' Barin was a great leader. In fact, in those days we had both become so well-known that our elder brother Manomohan used to say - 'There are only two and a half really great men in India today' - namely the two of us, Barin and I counted for two, and Tilak stood for half."

"Who is Tilak?"

"A very great man - certainly not half but a whole man, in fact more than a whole. Few sons of India have been as great. I'll tell you about him by and by.... Well.... My mother came back to India with Sarojini and Barin."

"Weren't you sad?"

"I'm not very sure. Are boys' hearts as sensitive as those of girls? Also, right from our earliest childhood we were being brought up to be English gentlemen away from home and we weren't really very close to our parents. And so now we set about becoming perfect sahibs by studying as hard as we could. My brothers went to school, but since I was only seven years old, I studied at home."

"Goodness! You were only seven, and you stayed there away from your parents?" said Rohit in surprise.

Page 18

"But I had my two brothers with me. And, for that matter, most of you also stay away from your parents. Mr. Drewett, the master of the house, taught me English and Latin, and his wife Mrs. Drewett taught me French, history, geography, and drawing. Do your mothers know all these subjects?"

"Yes, because most of them have been educated in this school. Moreover the Mother herself has taught them so much," said Kriti.

"Well, Mr. Drewett was deeply religious as well as learned, and always a perfect gentleman in his manners and his conduct. Of course, his old mother was a little bit different. She was old-fashioned and therefore pretty narrow-minded. The family consisted of these three. Perhaps because the Drewetts were childless, they grew easily fond of us. And I think the gentleman was more fond of me than of the others not only because I was the youngest but also because I enjoyed my studies. He took great pains to teach me well. This is one of the remarkable qualities that westerners have - whatever they do, they do it as thoroughly and earnestly as they can. And I had a few western traits in my character, for example, I was rather reserved and quiet."

"Are the English like that?"

"Not exactly, but their actions speak louder than their words. I'll tell you a funny story. Tennyson, the English poet, was a great friend of Carlyle's. Surely you know Garlyle? His French Revolution is truly an admirable book. I believe Nolini, even in his early teens, had already read the entire book. Anyhow, when these two writers met, they often sat by the fireside smoking for hours without exchanging a single word. And when Tennyson got up to leave, they both agreed that they had spent a wonderful evening. Do you think this kind of silent conversation would be possible here? Just look at me, see how I am talking continuously!"

"Oh! that's just to bring yourself close to us. Otherwise you are ever so serious. For example, during the Darshan, it

Page 19

seems your look was so stern that some people really got frightened. If the Mother hadn't been sitting beside you there, no one would have dared go for your Darshan!"

"Good Lord! Is that the reputation I have? I was never like that! Of course I've always been a man of few words, that I do not deny. My brother Manomohan had a radically different temperament."

"By the way, did you three brothers ever quarrel?" asked Bittu.

"Well, which brothers don't ever quarrel? This is how the family patterns are drawn, aren't they? - that brothers will quarrel, the weeping sister be rebuked by her mother and the father come in, bringing back a smile to every face. Do you think that we were all ideal human beings right from birth, each one a Yudhishthir? Of course neither were we as wicked as Duryodhan or Duhshasan, and so the fights were never bloody! The people here believe that I never had to undergo the burden of pain, error or ignorance. Not at all so. I was like any one of you, someone with defects as well as qualities, only I diminished my imperfections through personal effort and Sadhana. But about that I'll tell you another day. My eldest brother Benoy did indeed possess something of Yudhishthir's character, he was quiet and deep, diligent and affectionate and I was close to him. Moreover, both Mr. and Mrs. Drewett were wise and kind, the quiet strength of their natures left a fine impression on our child-consciousness. It is by their encouragement that my love for knowledge increased and I could make so much progress so early. It was at that age that I started reading Shelley, Wordsworth, Shakespeare and other great poets."

"Did you understand them?" asked Rahul.

"Not everything, perhaps, and not very clearly. But then poetry is not always something one understands with the mind. Children understand better with the heart, it is the heart that opens the doors of the intelligence. After finishing my studies, I used to sit at home absorbed in all these books."

Page 20

"And what about games? Did, you play cricket or football?" asked Rohit.

"No, you are all so fortunate here. You have been given so many facilities for games and exercises, gymnastics and athletics, combatives and swimming. These activities are preparing you for life, helping you to grow up healthy and beautiful. We were not so lucky in our childhood. It was only study and more study. Our motto was: 'Students should live for their studies - chātrānām adhyayanam tapah.’ Do you follow? You study Sanskrit, don't you? Sanskrit is the language of the gods, and if you do not study the language of the gods how can you grow up to become gods?"

"You know Sanskrit too?" An older child signed to the young questioner to keep quiet.

"How can I ask you to do what I never did?"

"Pujalalji is teaching us how to recite in Sanskrit. But how many languages are we to learn - there's already English, French and our mother-tongue."

"What is your mother-tongue?"

"Bengali - "

"Gujarati - "

"Hindi - "

"Oriya - "

"Tamil - "

"Oh! is that so? I always thought it was French!"

"Why? O-oh! Yes. And our father-tongue then is English! (Laughter) So we have got to learn English and French on top of our native language and Sanskrit. How is it possible?" complained Anshu.

"Why not? Didn't I learn English, French, Latin and Greek? In childhood learning is easy."

"You learned so many languages, read so many books! You must have been at your studies all day! Goodness, we'd never have been able to do so, we'd have been bored to death. Did you ever mix with the English boys?"

"There weren't very many occasions for it, really. I was made to stay at home, mostly, you see. And you know,

Page 21

don't you, that the English are not very outgoing or friendly."

"But Normanda is so friendly with us! His son can even speak Hindi and Bengali!"

"Bengali? Isn't it a difficult language?"

All the children said together, "No, no, of course it is not! We all speak Bengali. Nowdays, though, there's Hindi too."

"So, then, you see how easy it is to learn languages! The English people, however, find it very difficult to pronounce other languages correctly. Their own hard language tends to make their tongues rather stiff. Indians have much more supple tongues. That is why, perhaps, they talk so much more too! Whenever the Drewetts received friends and relatives at home, the latter were always terribly impressed by our accent. 'Oh! How well they speak English!' was always what they exclaimed, so much so that we got really fed up with the compliment."

"Do relatives visit one another in the west?"

"Surely they do! But not as they do in our country where you may suddenly find uncles and aunts with their entire households on your doorstep, without any warning. You see, there people have a strong sense of privacy. If they want to see one another, they have their clubs where they do it. There is a saying that an Englishman's home is his castle where one cannot easily barge in."

"Er... Sir, does one have to eat beef in England? Did you too-"

"Why do you hesitate to ask? We ate whatever was served, without any fuss. Besides, we had no voice, and don't forget that I left my homeland at a very tender age, so that I had hardly any occasion to relish Bengali dishes like spicy spinach and 'chochchori'. The food I ate at the Drewetts' was very plain, very different from the infinite variety of our Indian cooking. In fact, one should not be very interested in food; so long as one gets healthy nourishing food, it is enough. To dwell too much on the pleasures of

Page 22

the palate is harmful. Our ancient forefathers always advocated fresh, clean nourishing food for a straightforward and simple life. In our Ashram too, the Mother has not left much scope for epicures. So was it at the Drewetts', for not only was it an English house, it was also a pastor's home where simplicity and cleanliness were the law."

"They must have been very religious. Weren't they so?"

"That they were - always singing hymns and going to church. Especially old Mrs. Drewett, our tutor's mother. She was an almost fanatical churchgoer. She even took us along."

"You went to church?" asked Chaitanya.

"Of course, since she took us. And anyway, at that age, there is hardly any difference between a church and a temple."

"How did you find it?"

"Terrible! I was so bored listening to those long dry sermons the priests gave that I would be ready to doze off. But the old lady always kept a strict eye on us. I think she wanted to convert us into devout Christians. This reminds me of an amusing incident. There was once a meeting of nonconformist ministers in Cumberland. The old lady took me there. After the prayers were over nearly all dispersed, but devout people remained a little longer and it was at that time that conversions were made. I was feeling completely bored. Then a minister approached me and asked me some questions. I did not give any reply. Then they all shouted, 'He is saved, he is saved,' and began to pray for me and offer thanks to God. I did not know what it was all about. Then the minister came to me and asked me to pray. I was not in the habit of praying. But somehow I did it in the manner in which children recite their prayers before going to sleep in order to keep up an appearance. I was about ten at that time. I felt infinitely relieved when I got back to Manchester!" (Laughter)

"So you became a Christian?" asked Jones.

"What did I know of Christianity at that age? I remember,

Page 23

my brothers also scolded me, and called me stupid. But I don't think Mr. Drewett approved of forced conversions. I lived so many years with him, but I don't remember him ever talking to me about religion. Anyway, I've already told you that most of my memories of childhood are rather hazy. But one is still very vivid. I was eleven then, in the last year of my stay in Manchester. I was sitting alone. Everything around me was very quiet and still, even my thoughts seemed to have gone to rest. And then came a powerful feeling, a conviction that a time was fast approaching when the earth was going to undergo a great change, an unimaginable transformation. And that I would be at the centre of that revolution. Do you follow me?"

The children looked at one another.

"Have you seen a tropical storm in April? Or a cyclone? You have? Then you must have seen how the whole sky gets gradually covered with big black clouds. There is no wind, not a leaf rustles. The birds fly back to their nests. It seems as if the whole earth is waiting, with bated breath. Then the storm bursts, all Nature is shaken by the battering of rain and wind. But when it's over it feels like a fresh clean world. A new creation.

"I understood that my path would be very different from those that others trod. I would have to live for a great ideal. But what that ideal was, was not at all clear at the time."

"Did you call the Mother to help you in such moments?"

"The Mother? Didn't I tell you that for years and years I was not at all drawn to God? Well, that's another mystery. But after that experience I began to feel the stress of a new change within me. Perhaps my brothers noticed it, though since I had always been rather aloof and uncommunicative, they did not ask me anything. Even I myself did not bother my head about it.

"It is not my nature to dwell too much on anything or to worry unduly. But when I am convinced as to what my line of action should be, I follow it in a single-minded and unshaken manner.

Page 24

"Well, then, to return to our story. It was the last year of our stay in Manchester. My elder brothers were to end their schooling, and all three of us were to go on to London. And since it was the final year, Mr. Drewett seemed to intensify my study-courses."

"Were you very pleased with the prospect of going to London?" enquired Sudeep.

"Of course, I was happy to think that I was going to a new place, new things, and would see with my own eyes the famous London Town of which I had heard and read so much. But what brought me a special thrill was the knowledge that I would finally be free to go out of the house, to a school where I would meet other students and teachers. Actually it was my brother, Manomohan, who was terribly excited. Either he would lecture at length to me about where we were going, or he would sing with a Shelleyan effusion the praises of London and the Houses of Parliament, of the river Thames spanned by the famed London Bridge. And then, it is always a matter of pride to think one is going to study at St. Paul's School."

"Why?"

"Because it is the finest school in London. It has the finest students from all over England. But I did not know then that happy days would soon be over to be replaced by misery and gloom. Mr. Drewett gave us no inkling of this. On his part, right up to the end he looked after us with all affection and care."

"Then did you not feel a wrench when the time came to leave him?"

"A little bit, naturally. Though, we were not of the age to be soft-hearted. And it may be said that even our characters were shaped in the English mould!"

"You were talking of misery and gloom...?"

"Oh yes, though that was a different kind of misery. I will come to that when I tell you about my life in London."

"We'd really love to see you as a boy of eight or nine, the

Page 25

clothes you wore, the way you walked, the toys you played with...."

"The toys I played with...!"

"No-o-o. But all the same, it would have been wonderful if we had even a few photographs. Do you know that now we have got photographs of the Mother as a little girl? Oh, what a lovely child she was!"

There was a sweet smile on Sri Aurobindo's lips.

A new scene, a new setting. Sri Aurobindo sat in his green arm-chair exactly as in the photographs. He wore a fine handloom dhoti. It was white and crisp, with a narrow gold border. The pleats in front were carefully spread around the feet. Every day a freshly washed and starched dhoti was ready waiting for him. In fact, to prepare it was the daily duty of a particular sadhika. Yet there had been times long ago when Sri Aurobindo had to manage with two dhotis a year, at best, and only one handloom towel or gamchha that he shared with five or six of his disciples. Even earlier, as a student, there were years and years of poverty and near-starvation. And always, in all circumstances, the same calm, the same equanimity.

The soft sacred feet were resting on a footstool. On his right was a tall nut-brown table, on its round top a small clock was ticking away, indicating time to the Eternal.

The children filed in quietly, almost soundlessly. After bowing down at Sri Aurobindo's feet, each of them sat on the carpeted floor, facing him. The room was more crowded than before, there were some new faces. All of them were looking up at Sri Aurobindo, their wide eyes filled with reverential expectation. I was reminded of the forest hermitages of ancient India, where the Gurus, the Rishis, sat surrounded by their young students, eager seekers of wisdom. Of course now the times had changed, and so had the methods of imparting knowledge.

Page 26

Sri Aurobindo looked round the room and said —

"Many new faces, I see!"

"Yes," I answered, "they are all my students. I told them, in the class, all about our evening sessions with you and that made them very eager to come here with the younger children. They asked the Mother if they could come, and she graciously gave them permission. So here they are."

"Oh!" A long silence followed. Who would break it? And how? Then Aloka piped up, "While we were returning home after our last visit, we all found Gita terribly serious and silent. We asked her so many times what the matter was. She simply wouldn't say."

All heads turned towards Gita, and at this unexpected attention she blushed, embarrassed. She saw Sri Aurobindo smiling down at her, and the smile gave her the courage to say, "I was completely fascinated by that experience you told us of, when you were eleven years old. I also sometimes feel like that, that I don't belong to the world, that I have no one, neither friends nor family, except the Mother who alone is my real mother. Someone seems to beckon to me in my dreams. At other times I see an exquisitely beautiful figure, like our Mother, waiting for me by the wayside. Then, again, there are times when the trees come alive. The palm tree in the garden downstairs seems peopled with spirits. I see so many things that it becomes very difficult to concentrate on my studies or on my activities in the Playground. And if I tell my friends about them, they simply laugh at me."

"They laugh, do they? Haven't you heard of Joan of Arc, the little peasant girl? When she used to take her flock of sheep out to graze in the fields, angels from Heaven would come down to her and speak to her and even play with her. When you grow up a little, you will understand all this better. For the present, whenever you experience that special mood, remain as calm as possible and continue doing your work as quietly as you can."

Encouraged by these words from Sri Aurobindo, Sachet

Page 27

spoke up, "Whenever I go home after seeing you, I dream of you all night. You seem to come so close to me, and sometimes even caress me. How soft your hands are, just like the Mother's. She also visits me now and then in my dreams. And the next day I am filled with an intense joy, but then, gradually, it begins to diminish. Other thoughts get into the mind and the usual restlessness and stupidities of everyday life start all over again. Why does this happen?"

"Why? In order to explain why I would have to tell you all about Yoga and spirituality. But, to put it briefly, a human being is not one person. We may appear to be someone on the outside, but within us there dwell many different personalities, small and big. Each of them has a different temperament, and they are all the time disagreeing and even quarrelling among themselves. We call them mind, life and body. Have you read of the quarrel between the eye and the ear, between mind and life that the Upanishads relate? No? Well, then, haven't you ever noticed a struggle within yourself, your mind on one side, your life-forces on the other? Your mind, which may admonish you one moment, reminding you that you ought to study and not waste your time in pleasures and, the next moment, make excuses to yourself and tell you there is always tomorrow when it will be time enough to study."

"Oh! that happens all the time!" admitted Sachet.

"So there you are! You find that you are two people, one is called mind, the other life. The third person inside you, may intervene in the quarrel and say that it will obey neither; instead it may prefer to fall asleep. Such is human nature. It's as if it were China, Russia, America, all in one. (Laughter)

"If you can bring together all these bickering beings within you, harmonising them in the light of your soul, then your life grows truly beautiful and happy. You say you cannot retain the feeling of joy that you experience. That is because these lower personalities within you demand their quota of excitement, their stimulants consisting of cheap

Page 28

noise, trashy books and vulgar films! The higher delight and beauty and peace, the food of the gods, is too hard for them to stomach. You follow?"

"Then what is to be done?"

"There's no need to worry. But since it is a difficult task, one should proceed slowly and carefully. That is what we are striving for, ceaselessly, that man should attain his godhead. But, in the meantime, you are expected to move forward quietly, doing your work without impatience, rejecting all that is wrong, accepting instead whatever you feel is true and good in life and thought, in the books that you read or in the friends you surround yourselves with, or even in the simple nourishing food that you eat. Most important of all, put yourselves totally into the hands of the Mother, as completely as the little kitten surrenders itself to its mother."

"That is to say...?"

"Why, have you never observed little kittens whom their mother picks up by the neck and carries wherever she wants? The little ones look perfectly content, they have nothing to worry about. The baby monkey instead looks so terrified as it clings to its mother's back when she moves from one place to another. You all should rather imitate the kitten."

"Could you tell us something about dreams? Do they tell the truth?" suddenly interrupted one of the older boys.

"Not all of them."

"But Sachet just said he saw you and the Mother in his dreams...."

"Oh! those, of course, are true. How else could he feel waves of joy washing over him all of next day? You see, though science may believe that man is merely a being of flesh and blood, it really is not so. For example, if you read the Prayers and Meditations of the Mother you will come across her description of an experience she had when she was your age. For nearly a year every night as soon as she had gone to bed it seemed to her that she went out of her

Page 29

body and rose straight up above the house, then above the city, very high above. Then she used to see herself clad in a magnificent golden robe, much longer than herself; and as she rose higher, the robe would stretch, spreading out in a circle around her to form a kind of immense roof over the city. And towards it rushed all the miserable, the poor, the unhappy and the sick. They stretched their hands out to the dress. The moment they touched it their pain vanished and a tranquil joy filled their being. We all have another body besides the physical one, we may call it the subtle body. When you sleep at night, the Mother visits you in her subtle body to bring you peace and light, health and wisdom - according to your need. If you are conscious, you may realise this, sometimes even you may yourselves go to her. You will understand all these complex truths better when you grow up. In the meantime, shall we resume our story,

then?"

"Oh yes! You had told us that you went to London, to join St. Paul's School," said Gita.

"Now began a new chapter in our lives. In me, the child was giving place to the boy and, though I had not yet quite learned how to fly freely, my wings had begun to show. I no longer needed the safety of the nest that old Mrs. Drewett had made for me, though I believe it was for our sake that Mr. Drewett suggested to his mother to come and live in London. Indeed, this did help us to some extent, otherwise that vast unknown city would have swallowed up the three boys from a far-away land. So we found a shelter. And now about the school. My brothers had no difficulty in being admitted, but I was asked to pass a stiff examination set by the headmaster. Dr. Walker. He questioned me on various subjects and my answers must have satisfied him, in fact he seemed very pleased, especially with my knowledge of Latin, so that he began to coach me personally, along with some other boys. He always enjoyed helping and teaching enthusiastic students. I think he was largely responsible for the good name acquired by St. Paul's School. His coaching

Page 30

helped me beyond all expectations. Earlier it had been Mr. Drewett who had taught me personally, now it was the headmaster of St. Paul's who took me in hand. This, I have noticed, is one of the finer traits in the English character. If an Englishman grows fond of you or is impressed by you, he will go to any length to help you."

"Didn't you feel lost and lonely among so many English boys?" asked Aurobindoprasad.

"Why lonely? You mean because I was an Indian? But at that age one is not supposed to have all those notions about racial distinctions! Or perhaps I believed I was English myself, since I spoke like them, dressed like them, in every way I was like them - where was the difference? Yes, there was the colour factor, but after the cold climate of Darjeeling and 5 years of Manchester, I wasn't very dark any more. And later on, after I took up the practice of Yoga, my skin became even fairer."

I interrupted here to say - "When Bhupalbabu came here for your darshan, the first question he asked me was - 'I hear that Sri Aurobindo's colour has changed, he has become fair; is that true?' He was extremely surprised by my answer in the affirmative."

Sri Aurobindo said smiling, "You know when I was in Baroda, once someone came to see me. On seeing that I could not recognise him, he exclaimed, 'What? don't you recognise me? I'm Hesh.'

" 'Oh you're Hesh? But you look absolutely like a foreigner!'

" 'I've grown fair, haven't I? That's why I sometimes think that if one sent a whole shipload of us darkies to those cold European countries, at least our complexion would resemble theirs and the distinction between the whites and the blacks would disappear. It's this colour complex that is at the root of our slave-mentality,' he concluded. So now, you know that the complexion can change due to geographical reasons, and spiritual ones too."

Bittu turned to me and asked, "I would like to know if

Page 31

Bhupalbabu was able to recognise Sri Aurobindo."

I answered in an amused tone, "Well, at the actual moment of the darshan, he may have been too nervous to be able to notice his complexion!"

"Why nervous?" asked Aloka.

I replied, "You haven't experienced the darshan! And then of course you are all children, and fear is something you know little of. Also the Sri Aurobindo you are seeing now is quite other than the Lord who sat before us at the Darshan. The poet Nishikanto or Kobida, wrote of one such occasion. In English translation it would read:

'Filled am I with fear and love, O Lord, O Beloved.
For merciless is Thy marvellous light that shatters my darkest night.'

"So it is not at alt surprising if one feels nervous during darshan, even if one does not admit the feeling of fear. Dr. Manilal told Sri Aurobindo, 'Sir, you look majestic during the darshan.' And I wrote to him after Darshan, 'Your Himalayan austerity and grandeur take my breath away, making my heart palpitate!' And do you know what Sri Aurobindo replied, 'O rubbish! I am austere and grand, grim and stern! every blasted thing that I never was! I groan in unAurobindonian despair when I hear such things.' "

There was loud laughter. Sri Aurobindo also laughed and asked, "But... haven't we moved very far away from our topic? What were we discussing earlier?"

"Your school-days," prompted Vinit.

"Well, it's late today. I'll start from there the next time."

On the way out, the children whispered among themselves, "Did you see how beautiful his colour was? Molten gold!"

"Yes, I hadn't noticed it last time because he was lying down."

A third child broke in, "What gold are you talking of? I only saw him as very fair."

Page 32

A fourth: "Did you notice the dhoti, all the fine pleats made with such care? Really, not at all like our simple Lord Shiva! And here was I, really frightened of him at the beginning. How silly of me!"

Sachet said', "Today we've come rather early so that we may spend more time with you. You know, after waiting a whole week to come and see you, our visit seems so terribly short. The minutes fly so fast that hardly have you started to talk when it is time for us to leave. Could we come at some other time too, not just in the evening?"

"Mustn't you go to school?"

"But there are Sunday mornings or afternoons."

"Ah no! I am very busy then."

"Busy? Writing? We heard that you write a great deal of poetry. Or are you busy with something else?"

Sri Aurobindo said laughing, "Oh! Those mysteries are beyond you. They deal with my Yoga. I have to go to far-away places both above and below, and do so many kinds of work which would make you gape in wonder if I described them all in detail. For example, I must go and help anyone of you who is ill, or send the right inspiration to the poet who needs it. These are all very minor instances of my work. Most people think that I sit here in my room spending my time in luxurious isolation, unconcerned with what is happening in the world outside. You see, very few people understand Yogis and Rishis. It is said in the Scriptures that what the Common man calls day is night for the Yogi. When you grow up, you will understand better all this secret lore."

"That's true. Visitors who come from the outside world cannot understand what we are doing here. They ask us such strange questions about you and the Mother and the Ashram that we don't know whether to laugh or feel annoyed."

"What sort of questions?"

Page 33

"Such as why, if this is a spiritual institution, a Yogashram, do boys and girls go about so freely together and why is there such an emphasis on sports, and so on. They also want to know why the Mother wears beautiful clothes and what has made you give up all the work you used to do for the country to stay now shut within the four walls of your room. You know, the same questions, over and over again."

"And how do you answer them?"

"When we can't answer them satisfactorily, we ask them to go and speak to Nolinida, Pavitrada or Dada," answered Rahul.

"Who is Dada?"

"Don't you know Dada? Why, it's Pranabda."

"Oh! Pranab I know, not Dada."

"We all call him Dada, our elder brother. We've just finished our exercises; had a quick wash in order to come to you. We have a very strict programme of physical education which we have to follow. Dada says exercises are no less important than studies."

"He is right. I have told you, have I not,, of how, in our time, games and physical exercises were considered unimportant, how all the emphasis was placed only on studies? Today, thanks to the development of science, life-styles and attitudes have changed, and one is encouraged to pursue the science of physical development. Did you know that it held an important place in the cultures of ancient India, Greece and Rome? In our Yoga too, it is essential to have a strong and healthy body." . .

"Why? That is exactly what visitors to the Ashram do not understand."

"There are several reasons, I shall explain this to you in a few words. Only he who has a body firmly founded in strength and free of disease can fully receive the light and the power that we are bringing down. If you exercise your body in the right way, the more will it become free of heaviness and inertia and inconscience, and each cell will then imbibe the higher light. It is good to utilise the qualities

Page 34

we have in order to increase and make more exact the control of physical activities. It is very obvious that those who practise physical culture scientifically and with coordination acquire a control over their bodies that's unimaginable for ordinary people."

Udita said, "Some time ago, the Russian gymnasts came here, the Mother talked to us about them in the evening class." Udita asked Champaklal if she could have the Questions and Answers from the shelf there. He gave it to her, and she turned the pages of the book, found the passage and read it out, 'We saw with what ease they did exercises which for an ordinary man are impossible, and they did them as if it was the simplest thing in the world; there was not even the least sign of effort! That mastery is already a great step towards the transformation of the body. And these people who are materialists by profession, used no spiritual method in their education; it was solely by material means and an enlightened use of human will that they had achieved this result. If they had added to this a spiritual knowledge and power, they could have achieved an almost miraculous result.... Because of the false ideas prevalent in the world, we don't usually see the two things together,. spiritual mastery and material mastery, and so one is always incomplete without the other; but this is exactly what we want to do and what Sri Aurobindo is going to explain: if the two are combined, the result can reach a perfection that's unthinkable for the ordinary human mind and this is what we want to attempt.' "

"Quite so. If you give up your exercises today you are sure to give your doctors a great deal more work tomorrow. Headaches and stomach-aches and indigestion will follow. One may even find that symptoms of ailments such as diabetes and blood-pressure, heart-trouble begin to disturb the person who does not take any exercise. Here is the doctor, ask him."

"Who? Nirodda? He does a lot of exercise. And Nolinida runs even at this age."

Page 35

"Oh, he was always a footballer, whereas Nirod is a doctor, and values the importance of the body. He has also seen for himself how much the English loved games and sports - something for which both Oxford and Cambridge are famed at present."

"Yes, we have seen them hawking and hunting, in films. It was very impressive."

"I was once a student at Cambridge. Of course, that was a long time ago, a time when learning and degrees were more important than now. Perhaps today's Cambridge is quite different."

"Did you find many other Indians there, in your time?"

"No, just a handful. Indian students had just begun going to England then."

"You know, it's too early to start talking about your days at Cambridge since you haven't finished describing your school-days to us yet."

Sri Aurobindo laughed and said, "All right! Let's go back to the beginning. We may have to go back and forth in time quite often, I think. So... what is it you wish to know?"

"Since you were such a bright student at school, you must surely have received several prizes and awards."

"Yes, I did, a few. In history and literature and especially in classical studies. Do you know what classical studies are? Greek and Latin, which had the place our Sanskrit has with us. If one knew these well, one could master the English tongue better. Actually, all European languages and civilisations are derived from Greece and Rome. In earlier centuries all European cultures used Latin as their written language. I was rather good at Latin as well as Greek. I wrote some poetry in them and won prizes. I remember once I was asked to select a prize for myself, a book. I chose the Arabian Nights. It was beautifully bound and illustrated and I kept it for years afterwards. Have you read it? What fantastic imagination fills its pages! I think only easterners can have this kind of fantasy and imagination."

"Did you find that your western classmates envied you

Page 36

your success as a student?" asked Bittu.

"I never noticed anything of the sort. Actually I lived mostly in my own world and didn't bother with who was thinking what. But yes, when, from my corner of the classroom, I would speak out the answer to some difficult question, I did find them turning towards me in surprise - though if you ask about envy and jealousy, no."

"We used to look upon westerners as aliens at one time because they were foreigners. It was the Mother who changed our outlook," said Kriti.

"How?"

"She is a foreigner, but when we went to her for the first time she spoke to us with such love and sweetness, calling us 'mon petit', or 'mes petits', that we felt she was closer to us than our own mothers. Later, we started to address her as 'Douce Mere', and just seeing her walk past is enough to fill us with delight. Recently also a couple of Irish children, brother and sister, have come here, as well as a young French girl. We like them very much. The other day the little Irish girl recited a Bengali poem so beautifully that we were astounded. Even her pronunciation was so precise and correct, almost better than ours!"

"That is because the Irish are Celts, and their tongues are less stiff than those of the English. The latter seem to me to lock themselves up from within. For example, their friendship or affection is less demonstrative than ours. You and your friends walk with your arms around each other's necks, they will rarely do so. However, my brother managed to make friends with a few Englishmen. One of them was Lawrence Binyon who became a famous poet. I too got to know him through my brother. The fact that I knew several languages and was interested in a wide range of subjects impressed him enormously. Once, on reading my translation of a Greek poem, he asked me why I did not write poetry. But, on the other hand, these extra-curricular interests gave me a bad name too."

"You, a bad name?"

Page 37

"I have already told you that I wasn't too bad a student. My teachers found me promising. But as I went to the higher classes, my interest in studies seemed to decrease. The teachers mistakenly thought that I was rather spoilt. The fact of the matter was that whatever was taught in class seemed so simple, so easy to me that it lost all savour. I preferred reading other books and spent most of my time studying various other subjects. Thus, during the last three years of school, I read not only all the available books in English literature, but also those in French and other European literature. Naturally, my school studies suffered somewhat. I remember reading Shelley's long poem The Revolt of Islam several times, I enjoyed it so much. Not that I understood all of it clearly, but the idealism it put forth attracted me. Like Shelley, I also began to dream of a new age which would manifest on earth. Don't you read books, children?"

"We do, but not very many and those too are mostly story-books. In schools outside the Ashram the guardians don't encourage much extra reading, because they feel that the children will begin to neglect their studies. This, to them, is a very big sin since they believe that a good student is one who sits successfully for examinations and gets high grades. Of course, they do not find it easy to obtain books, either. Not so for us in the Ashram."

"It is good, even necessary, to read books outside your school curriculum. But the books you read at an early age should fill your hearts and minds with the beautiful and the great. There is no harm in reading novels, but if there is no beauty in their vision and expression they will not only not help you, but even harm you, because the excitement of the story may grip you completely. I just told you how in my youth The Revolt of Islam inspired so many dreams. The boys who joined the Indian Freedom Movement were similarly inspired by Bankim's Anandamath. Nowadays I am told .that the world is flooded with novels and short stories. Actually, you know, the secret of life is harmony. There

Page 38

must be a harmony in all you do. You may enjoy yourselves so long as you do your studies as well."

"But in our case, there are a few difficulties which make it hard for us to find time for everything. Firstly we spend three or four hours every day in the playing field or the gymnasium. Then, at school too, our programme is packed with a great number of subjects. You didn't have to study Science, did you?"

"No. Subjects like physics and chemistry were just beginning to be discussed and written about in magazines and journals. Usually they were described as 'newfangled notions'. But, in your case, even if you have more subjects to study, the amount of work you are expected to do for each is surely not much. And don't think that, just because we did not play games or do physical exercises, we sat at our desks all the time, busy with the parrot-like repetitions of our lessons! Actually what is required from the outset is discipline. If you organise your time to follow a controlled pattern then you will find that your life will always be open to new opportunities and occasions. If you had to undergo even half the hardship and suffering that we three brothers had to face in our student days, you would think that the world was a trackless desert of misery!"

"That you should have had to suffer is something unimaginable!"

"You are too young to understand. Actually even the elders of the Ashram believe that both the Mother and I have grown up, from the beginning, in the lap of luxury. Now I want to ask you if you have ever seen a banyan tree. From its earliest age, its sapling must fight against wind and weather. The taller the tree the harder the blows it receives and yet when you admire its vast silent strength, do you ever think of all the hardships it has faced as its boughs reach up to the sky? In just the same way, few people have had to face as much danger and difficulty both physical and psychological as we. It is due to our constant and sleepless effort that today your lives can blossom in such harmony and

Page 39

beauty and delight. But the hardships I had to face in my early years were due to poverty and hunger and, in fact, my brothers, especially Manomohan, felt this much more acutely than I. I never paid much attention to what I ate or the clothes I wore and always found it ridiculous to preoccupy myself with food, be it even a feast or a picnic. However, even in the Ashram, I find that the demands of the palate are overpowering. There was once, here, a sadhika named Mridu. Have you heard of her?"

"Yes. Wasn't she the one who made 'luchis' for you?"

"Yes. Whenever she got annoyed or fed up with the life here and threatened to leave, I stopped her by saying, 'If you go away, who will make me luchis?' (Laughter)

"She was indeed a good cook. Once a week it was her turn to cook in the Ashram kitchen and she would make wonderful Bengali dishes with all the vegetables and spices available. Everybody in the Ashram would wait eagerly for that day of the week."

"We also go out on picnics now and then, but not so much for the pleasure of eating good food. Food, after all, disappears so fast."

"That's just it, and how it should be. But the women in India seem to spend so much of their lives cooking, frying and crying, because of the many types of dishes they have to make - eighteen types, as the saying goes - I have even attended a feast where there were more than a hundred! But when I left home to work for my country's freedom, I remember having survived on bread and bananas for about a month. The banana is an excellent food, both tasty and healthy. I have heard of an African tribe that survives on bananas alone. When, as boys, we were short of money, we had to live on bread, tea and cheap sausages and, even in the English winter, had to do without a warm coat. But this did not hinder me in my studies."

Rohit said softly, "But you are...."

"Different? Have you too learnt to speak like the old people here? It is not true. There is such a thing as human

Page 40

nature, and I had it too. But it can be changed. Do you think I started performing miracles from the day I was born? It will surprise you to hear that I had faults in my nature too. At the age of 13 I became aware of my selfishness and I began to try my best to rid myself of it. And whenever there Were any quarrels or arguments to be faced, with a landlady for example, it was always Manomohan who stood up for us. I never dared to utter a word. Then, one day, I decided to do away with this fear, and I began going forward into those very situations that, earlier, had left me quaking.

"I have already told you about how we almost starved because we had so little money. This began soon after we arrived in London. In the beginning, we were staying with Mr. Drewett's mother who had come with us to London. Even when we couldn't pay her, she never complained. All the same, we felt terribly embarrassed and uncomfortable about the situation. As you know she was a very pious Christian and wanted very much that we too be converted to her beliefs. So we were obliged to say grace before meals, read the Bible and go with her to church, which we unwillingly did. Perhaps she still hoped to draw our souls into the Christian fold, and there were times when the tyranny of her religious zeal seemed unbearable. We bore it all stoically. But one day there was a bombshell. We were at prayers and Manomohan, who happened to be in a bad mood that day, protested to the old lady by shouting - 'The followers of old Moses did very well by disobeying him!' Moses was a prophet to the Christians. Horrified and furious, she screamed back at him: 'These pagans! These nonbelievers! If I stay a minute longer with them, the roof will fall down on my head.' On hearing this, we all sighed with relief and looked gratefully at Manomohan.

"Actually, at that age, I was not specially attached to truth nor was I courageous. Between the Aurobindo of those years and the revolutionary Aurobindo there was a world of difference. The friends and acquaintances I had then could never have imagined that the Aurobindo they

Page 41

knew would one day be at the head of a revolution and willingly risk his life for his nation's cause. I had to fight against my faults systematically, at every step, before I attained a yogic stature. Have you heard how Hillary and Tenzing reached the top of Mt. Everest?"

"Yes, we have. We have even seen a film of it. What a struggle! Masses of ice, bone-breaking rocks, snowstorms, avalanches and blizzards. And, at every step, the fear of slipping down from the smooth icy rock-faces. Terrifying! And yet magnificent. But, tell us, why do human beings venture to do these things? What do they get by thus gambling with their lives? Is it for name and fame?"

"Why? Don't you understand the intense joy of knowing the unknowable and of doing the impossible? Do you think that name and fame and wealth are all that man seeks for? There is, deep, in the heart of man, an unquenchable upspringing fire. This was what forced him to leave the early security of his cave in order to build up his enormous palace of Civilisation. This again is what is behind his dream of moving earth and sky. Do you want, like Gandhi, Rousseau or Tolstoy, to return to that early state of Nature?

"Of course, the west has always tried to conquer the world around while Asia, particularly India, has sought to master the worlds within. And conquest of the peaks of the Spirit is far more difficult and dangerous than climbing Everest. You don't believe me?"

"But why is it so? Why has the Divine made the way to Himself so steep, so hard? If you had only wished it, you could easily have made our paths smooth and free, could you not?"

"These infantile notions such as 'Why does God test man so cruelly? Why is He so merciless, to what end?' are pretty widespread. From the beginning of time, man has bitterly complained against God that He is unjust and unfeeling. But the Lord only smiles behind the veil, saying, 'How man misjudges me - I who ceaselessly help and sustain him. He forgets me in his happiness, but when pain and misery make

Page 42

him cry out to me, I always hold my arms out to him in protection. He has only to take one step towards me and I reach out to clasp him.' To put it briefly, the Lord is the ¦ source and end of all love, joy, beauty, power, wisdom.

"And this infinite marvel that He is - should it be cheaply ,. won? Would that be right? If a priceless treasure were easily obtained, who would value it? Supposing gold and diamonds were strewn on the streets - as they were supposed to be in Eldorado - do you think the government would then have taxed gold ornaments or would you have been attracted by them? The Lord is the purest of all gold, the treasure of all treasures. Possess it even for a short while and you will find that all things else seem worthless. Have you read Tagore's lines where he makes the Brahmin say to Sanatana: 'That nameless treasure I beg of thee which makes all earthly gems dim and pale. Thus saying, on the sandy river-bank he cast away his precious stone.'

"This is absolutely true. Now for your next question. It is not that we cannot lighten your burden of pain and misery; in fact, we do it and I am sure some of you must have experienced this often enough. Ask Nirod how much easier things have been made for you children. Since we are your Gurus, we are bound to help you. But if you demand that we clear your paths in a moment and lead you to the divine realisation straightaway, then, I'm afraid, we will not do so. I have just explained why. Secondly, we too are subject to the Divine Law, a Law which our whim or desire may not break or alter. Thirdly, there is the human nature that is full of impurities like jealousy and anger, restlessness, desires, fears and inertia. This nature has to be gradually cleansed of all these. Otherwise, if the light and power and joy were brought down into an impure vessel, it would find itself in a situation similar to that of Hriday, the nephew of Ramakrishna."

"Why? What happened to him?" asked Anirban. "Haven't you read the Kathamrita, the life and teaching of Sri Ramakrishna?"

Page 43

"Some of it we have tried to read, though it's often hard to understand. But we remember seeing Hriday in the film on Ramakrishna. Ramakrishna used to call him 'Hride'. He did look a bit stupid."

"That he was, indeed. He looked after his uncle, it is true, but he also troubled him a great deal. Unwittingly of course, and that shows he wasn't bright."

"Please tell us his story," requested Anirban.

"Well, you see, when he found that his uncle had granted to Vivekananda and others the vision of the Divine Mother, he complained to him loud and long, 'I look after you all the time and never get to see anything in reward. It's always others who are shown the divine visions.' Sri Ramakrishna explained to him, 'Continue working for me and looking after me; that will bring you all possible rewards.' But when the young man, refusing to understand, continued to insist and complain, his uncle finally touched him with his finger. Merely touched him once, with one finger. But in that instant Hriday found himself surrounded by an ocean of light! Light everywhere, the whole universe had become only light, but since his being had not been purified and prepared for such an experience, he lost his head. He began to shout, 'Ramakrishna, Ramakrishna, come, let's set out to save the country!' He had forgotten he was talking to his uncle. It was as though he himself was the Guru and Ramakrishna his disciple! (Laughter) The latter smiled to see how little was needed to make a man lose his self-control. So he touched his nephew a second time, and lo, the world of light was dissolved! Hriday, the great Yogi, was once again the simpleton he had earlier been!"

"Yes, we have heard about similar experiences. Nirodda told us how, in the early years of his Sadhana, he had felt showers of joy coming down on him. This had lasted a bare 10 or 15 seconds but it was enough to make him feel completely intoxicated."

"Indeed, it is so, particularly when the being is small and unprepared."

Page 44

"Oh then... for us... after all, we are so weak! There are some of us who think that the very words 'Sadhana' and 'Yoga' are too difficult for us to understand, and are meant only for older people. All we need to do is to study and work, do whatever the Mother has asked us to do and rely solely on her, believing that she will do everything for us. Isn't that right?"

"Absolutely right, provided you have an unshakable faith and trust in her. You must be like the little kittens, as Ramakrishna used to say. It's just because you are not strong that we are here with you. Man, however great he may be, cannot attain the Divine by himself. It is the Divine Grace that makes everything possible. As the Bhagavata says, the Grace can make the dumb speak and the lame 'climb the tallest mountains. There is no miracle the Grace cannot perform."

"There is one thing that seems strange to us. On the one hand, you say you were a timid boy, on the other you were winning so many prizes and accolades!"

"But what has winning prizes got to do with timidity? So often, extremely intelligent students are quite incapable of achieving anything in life. Their minds are free and active in the world of thought and imagination, it is when these have to be translated into action that their timidity hampers them. You see, in my own world of thought, I did not have to fight any battles or face any opponent. No old Mrs. Drewett came in there to lecture me, no authority to challenge my rights. One is always alone in one's mind. One is one's own friend, as well as one's own enemy. But, then, to fight that enemy, no outside courage is required, it is there within the being. You understand me? Fear is something that dwells either in the vital being or in the body. You may call it man's original sin, which can be conquered by the force of will. That is exactly what I learned to do when I grew older. Whenever I found myself afraid of any particular action, I would throw myself into it with greater fervour. My argument was that since one day die we must, it was better to die bravely, even

Page 45

if earlier than live longer, fearful and cowardlike. Have you heard of the French king Henry IV? It is said of him that he was full of fear, but to get rid of it he used to literally jump into the thick of the battle. You know, my body was not like yours, well-built and sturdy. It most definitely did not enjoy exertion and exercise in any form. But, on the other hand, the power of my will was very great so that no amount of physical pain or suffering could get me down. I have played with death or lived dangerously, as it is said, just by this mental will-power. Not only that! I have helped others to become brave, and seen so many youngsters go smiling to the gallows for love of their motherland.

"Caesar and Napoleon never knew the meaning of the word 'fear'. There is a widely known story about Caesar. Once he was on a ship which was caught in a terrific storm. All the sailors were filled with fear. But Caesar was calm and said to them, 'How can you feel fear? Do you not know you are carrying the fortunes of Caesar?'

"But, of course, such men are different from their very birth, as were Arjuna and Abhimanyu. You surely know Abhimanyu's story?"

The children looked at one another, some said yes, many said no.

"Have you not read the Mahabharata?"

Some children excitedly shouted, "We watched it on the TV."

"You must have seen how in the battle of Kurukshetra the boy Abhimanyu found himself surrounded by enemy kings and fought single-handed and even broke through that mortal trap. But ultimately the Kauravas charged at him in a mass and killed him. Well, such instances of heroism are rare in the annals of mankind."

"Dada too was very brave even as a boy. He used to fight with the police."

"Is that so? Why?"

"Because the police would often bully and threaten people wrongly. Once there was a big football match in

Page 46

Dada's town, and he was asked to man the gate. When he found the police inspector trying to force his way into the field without buying a ticket, Dada stopped him. The inspector swung his arm at him, Dada swung back and knocked him down flat. News of the 'boxing bout' spread like wildfire and, in a little while, there were the turbaned policemen on one side and the boys from Dada's Sports Club on the other. The whole affair went to court. Dada's lawyer explained to him why he mustn't admit having hit a police inspector. But as soon as he was questioned about it he straightaway told the truth! Another time, he fought the military, and Dada's uncle, Motakaka, had to spend quite a fortune to get him and his friends released. Of course, the soldiers too were punished."

Kriti meekly asked, "By the way would you tell us why we girls are so easily frightened? Dogs, even mice and cockroaches make us scream or run. The boys laugh at us. It is really too shameful. I often decide I won't be so easily scared, but when the time comes I find myself trembling." (Laughter)

"But the cause are those very boys! Right from the earliest dawn of history men have preferred their women to stay at home. They have treated them as pretty dolls to be petted and pampered at best. Look at the Greeks. They, who had such a magnificent civilisation, wished their women to sit at home spinning wool and be the wives and mothers of brave warriors. They could not go out into the world. Then, there is the story of Jeanne d'Arc who was burnt alive - for several reasons, one of them being that she dared to fight on the battlefield dressed as a man! And then, with time, various notions such as - 'Woman leads man to Hell, she is the cause of his downfall, she must be debarred from the spiritual seeker's path' - tightened the noose around women. So the injunction of the Scriptures came to be that in childhood a girl should be governed by her father, as a woman by her husband, in old age by her son. As you know, in India, the word of the Scriptures has always been

Page 47

accepted with unquestioning obedience, with the result that women have remained helpless and weak.

"But the world around has been slowly changing. The first great awakening was the French Revolution. Then, the 19th century gave us writers like Zola and Ibsen. Later came Shaw and many others who spoke against social evils and injustices. In Turkey, Kamal Ataturk freed women from the burkha. Indian history recounts the stories of many brave and illustrious women - Samyukta, Subhadra, Padmini. There are also the great names of the queen of Jhansi as well as Rani Rashmoni, both of whom stood up to fight against foreign rule. In fact, many women in Bengal took part in the Swadeshi Movement.

"Now they are beginning to find themselves, especially after India's Independence, and to realise that they are portions of the divine universal Shakti. Unfortunate indeed is the land where women are downtrodden. The Divine Mother comes upon earth from time to time to break such bonds. This time she has come down as the Mother herself in all her Power. All of you children live here together, with one common ideal before you, don't you? Boys and girls work and play and study in friendship and the old strict conventions are starting to crumble. The girls must really forget that they are different - frail and circumscribed. But you spoke of fear - is that really so common even in the Ashram?"

"Sometimes, it is. But there are many instances of bravery, too. The Mother herself spoke to us of one such incident. A young girl was one day riding her bicycle. Two local boys began to chase and bother her. When she found that she was unable to shake them off, she got down from the cycle and stood facing them. She swung the big old-fashioned gate-key she had in her hand.

" 'Come closer and I'll smash your faces!' she said firmly. Terrified, the two boys rode off as fast as they could! Though she was only a slip of a girl, rather thin and short, not the least bit muscular or strong-looking, she had shown

Page 48

great courage. The Mother was full of appreciation for it."

"Do you think courage is necessarily measured by physical strength? Why then did the two physically far stronger boys run away? Actually, strength is of the mind too. People like those two fellows believe women are weak and can be easily bullied. But mental strength can scare them off."

"Speaking of mental strength reminds me of another girl who also was exceptionally brave. She always dressed like a boy, spoke and behaved like one too. It was as if she had forgotten altogether that she was born a girl. Once she had gone to Delhi to visit her family and, while there, visited President Rajendra Prasad. He said to her - 'There, in the picture gallery, are the portraits of the country's great leaders. Go and take a look.' She did so but did not find the one face she was looking for. She came back to the President and said, 'Babuji, most of the leaders are there, but not the greatest one of them all, the Prophet of Nationalism and Independence. His picture is missing.' He asked - 'And who is that?' The girl replied - 'Why? Sri Aurobindo, of course.' The President was quiet for an instant. Then calling his secretary he asked for one of your pictures."

Sri Aurobindo smiled.

"But, Sir, did you ever have any reason in your life to fear?"

"Does fear always have to have a reason? It's a question of the individual's temperament. It has its origin in the subconscious. Once, in Baroda, my life was in danger, but the incident did not disturb me one bit. I have referred to it in one of my sonnets."

The word 'sonnet' caused a small stir among the children. Anshu asked, "Which one?"

"It starts - 'I sat behind the dance of Danger's hooves...' - Have you read it?"

"Yes, yes, I have! Its next line goes -

'In the shouting street that seemed a futurist's whim....' "

Page 49

"Oh! You've learnt it by heart. Do you love poetry?"

"Yes, she does, very much," answered Udita. "She's always got your poetry on the tip of her tongue. Your Last Poems or lines from Savitri. Even at night, if she can't sleep, she begins to recite your poems. But, strangely enough, studies don't interest her."

Anshu looked down. Shyly she said, "Your Last Poems has very beautiful things. The language is so simple and sweet. I did not know that English could be such a musical tongue. The images and rhythms of this particular sonnet have always drawn me. I never thought about the danger you had been in."

"Why?"

"I never thought about it really. I don't understand poetry but read it because it is beautiful."

"Do you mean to say that poetry is mere imagination?"

"No, it's not that," she answered very embarrassed. "Will you please tell us about that experience?"

"It happened when I was in Baroda. I was sitting in an old horse-drawn carriage and calmly going towards the market when suddenly the horse, terrified by something, began whinnying, cutting capers. It was jumping so wildly in the air that the carriage was about to be overturned. The sound of people running and shouting from all sides frightened the poor beast even more. But while its hooves were thrashing frantically in the air, I willed that nothing should happen to me and at once the Godhead came out of me and did what I have described in the poem. And so, everyone saw me sitting calm and undisturbed. The poem describes the experience exactly."

Everybody sat listening in rapt silence. Then Sudeep very softly said - "Could we listen to the poem?"

"But I do not remember the exact words."

Immediately Champaklal jumped up, went to the book-shelf and brought the book. Such an opportunity was certainly not to be lost!

Gently smiling, Sri Aurobindo looked for the poem and

Page 50

having found it, he began to recite it in his soft voice:

"I sat behind the dance of Danger's hooves
In the shouting street that seemed a futurist's whim,
And suddenly felt, exceeding Nature's grooves,
In me, enveloping me the body of Him.

Above my head a mighty head was seen,
A face with the calm of immortality
And an omnipotent gaze that held the scene
In the vast circle of its sovereignty.

His hair was mingled with the sun and breeze;
The world was in His heart and He was I:
I housed in me the Everlasting's peace,
The strength of One whose substance cannot die.

The moment passed and all was as before;
Only that deathless memory I bore."

They all sat spellbound. What an incredibly wonderful experience to hear Sri Aurobindo recite with his chaste English accent - something to treasure in memory ail their lives! On the way home, the children exchanged thrilled comments with one another.

"Did you mark the perfect English accent?"

"What a voice, deep and sweet at the same time! Every word was distinct."

"Yes. And the rhythm that upheld the lines touched my very soul. I didn't know recitation could be so beautiful, having heard only our own poor attempts!"

The next evening Sri Aurobindo turned to Kriti and remarked: "What is the matter? Why the sweet secret smile?"

Page 51

The girl's laughter then rippled forth, .unable to contain itself any longer. The others looked at her embarrassed at such lack of respect before the Lord. But he continued to look at her smilingly. Finally she said:

"When we returned to the hostel last evening we told our friends about your recitation. Immediately they pounced on us, asking, 'How was it? We'd like to hear it too.' And then, Rahul began to recite, trying to imitate your voice and tone. Though he spoke rather slowly, his rendering had neither the true feeling nor even the articulation. In fact, it was hard not to laugh."

"Perhaps he wasn't serious. But then, recitation in English is not easy, particularly for us Indians. A clear, smooth expression, distinctly articulated and without sentimentality - we're too emotional a race for this."

"Exactly. Some recorded readings of poetry that we have heard sometimes seemed to us so flat, hardly expressive recitations. They sounded just like plain readings. That is because, as you say, our perception of feelings is different. Did you do a lot of reciting in your early years?"

"Only the compulsory poetry recitation in school. Nothing else. But there I heard others read poetry. Yes, I spoke a few times in the debating club, but that was more a reading out of my prose essays."

"Essays on what?" asked Jones.

"Literature, quite often. A schoolboy is hardly qualified to discuss politics! No, the purpose of the debates was to discuss the plays and poems of Shakespeare and others."

"At that early age! Goodness! We have next to nothing to say about things like that!"

"That is because you are not taught to do so. On the other hand look how well you sing and dance and act in plays. I am sure if I were asked to do these things you would all laugh!" (Laughter)

Sudeep had a question:

"There is something I would like to know. In that poem of yours about the horse-carriage, it is evident that the Divine

Page 52

was with you, but without your calling Him or praying to Him, He came to your rescue."

Sri Aurobindo smiled as he explained, "The Divine is always with us, whether we know it or not, believe it or not, and He acts always for the best. So what if we do not pray to Him or even believe in Him? He is there all the same. At the time of the incident in Baroda, I myself did not believe very positively in God! But He doesn't react like human beings, you know, and say - 'Why should I help you, since you have no faith in me?' Besides, I willed that nothing should happen to me."

"If the Divine acts as you say, then how do dangers and difficulties come into our lives?"

"That is a very complicated matter. I would have to explain the whole of The Life Divine to you in order to give you a satisfactory answer. For the present, let me tell you that our life here is a battlefield of many opposing forces which you may describe" as divine and anti-divine or asuric powers. The poor human being is a mere puppet in their hands. But though he may be a puppet, there are certain factors that cannot be overlooked, such as the weight of his past Karma, his free-will and so on. Hence, it is the combination of all these complex forces that will tilt the balance for the individual here. If, for example, you walk on the path of truth, if your mind is preoccupied with pure thoughts, then naturally the divine powers will lay their claim on you. This, in short, is the general law. But life is far too complex to be subjected to the influence of any one law. In your case, there is accompanying each of you, a power of the Divine Mother, what one may call an emanation. Through it, the Mother remains in constant contact with you, and protects you from all danger and difficulty. That is why I have said: 'Always behave as if the Mother was looking at you; because she is, indeed, always present.' So you see, on the one hand, the Divine seemed to have turned His face away from me and my brothers during the many months of our stay in England when we were starving, we

Page 53

had fallen behind with the payment of our school fees, and the hope of pursuing farther studies at Cambridge or Oxford seemed so bleak. Later, even the old lady with whom we were living till then left us stranded. On the other hand. He saved me from certain death in Baroda. Sri Ramakrishna used to say - 'Do not try to understand the Lord's ways, your fate will be like that of the small figure made of salt which thought it could measure the ocean. As soon as it entered the water, it ceased to be!' (Laughter) He used to also say - 'Not a leaf moves without His will.' What do you say to that?"

"What did you do after your quarrel with the old lady?" asked Rinku.

"That is when our life as strangers in a foreign land really began. Until then we had lived under the wing of Mr. Drewett and his family. Now we were like fledglings who were made to leave the nest. Fortunately for us, it happened during the school holidays and we immediately left for the Lake District."

"The Land of Lakes?"

"Yes. Wordsworth's birthplace. Haven't you read about it in his works? You must have heard about his sister Dorothy and his friend Coleridge."

"Of course we have. Coleridge who wrote the 'Ancient Mariner' - isn't that so?

'The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free,
We were the first who ever burst
Into that silent sea.'

"What marvellous poetry! And his 'Kubia Khan' too is very beautiful. We've heard that the Lake District is a wonderful place. Something like our Kashmir?"

"Yes, you may say so.

"In the daytime we wandered around in that lovely country, climbing hills, skirting tarns and streams, lying in.

Page 54

the shade of spreading trees.

"Sometimes, Manomohan would be so carried away by all the beauty that he would burst into loud declamations of poetry!"

"What did you do the whole day? Where did you live?" questioned Sachet.

"Oh, there were small cottages nearby, proper houses, not huts made of mud like those we have here. There were farm-houses too which, for a nominal fee, took in tourists and visitors. The three of us stayed in one such cottage. We would leave every morning after breakfast and return home late in the evening around nine or ten o'clock. It wasn't dark then because in summer the days are very very long in the northern countries."

"So, you ate nothing the whole day?" asked Amal with concern.

"Of course we did! Either we carried our lunch with us - hard-boiled eggs and sandwiches, or we dropped in at some farm-house for bread and milk. We had no problem with food. Off we would go in the morning walking along river banks which had hundreds of red tulips and gold daffodils glistening in the fields. You know that poem by Wordsworth, don't you - 'I wandered lonely as a cloud...'? Well, we found ourselves in the same countryside and were equally thrilled. Especially Manomohan, he would often climb the hills, singing aloud his own compositions, or blithely jumping into mountain streams...."

"Didn't you swim?"

"We didn't know how to, no one had ever taught us. Don't forget that we had left home as three small boys and had been wandering on the other side of the world ever since. I remember, on one of our rambles in the Lake District, Manomohan's foot slipped and he fell into a deep pool out of which he managed to climb only after drinking much water! Another time, the three of us were walking along in the gathering darkness of late evening. Mano, as usual singing and reciting poetry to himself, had fallen back.

Page 55

When Benoy and I came across a deep ditch in our path, we both shouted out to him asking him to be careful, since he seemed completely lost in his own world of poetry. But the louder we called out to him, the more loud became his singing! Finally we stopped and waited for him to catch up with us."

"He loved poetry very much, didn't he?"

"Enormously. Some of his English friends were poets and together with them he even published a book. You may say that it's from him that I have caught the contagious fever called Poetry: He would spend whole days lying underneath shady trees, reading aloud or composing poems. But this way of life could not last. Our holidays had to come to an end. One misty morning - I haven't told you, have I, how suddenly fog and mist or a continuous fine drizzle could unexpectedly come down and cover the lakes glistening in the early morning sunshine - well, as I said, one morning we packed our bags and started back for London, never dreaming that I was about to face one of the hardest tests of my life."

"It is very hard for us to imagine you. Sir, as a young boy, just like one of us, laughing and playing as we do!" said Rohit.

"Do you mean to say that I was a sage from birth, another Kapilmuni well-versed in all the sciences and Scriptures from the beginning? Or would you prefer to think of me born as a Hebrew prophet, old and solemn, with flowing hair and beard?" (Laughter)

"No, not quite so, but we have been told that you were always terribly grave and reserved, something like Shiva. Of course some of the notions were proved incorrect when we read your correspondence with Nirodda. In fact, it's that book that has given us the courage to chat like this with you." (Laughter)

"So, what did you do On your return to London?" asked Pooja.

"Well, the three of us went to the brother of a friend of

Page 56

Father's. His name was James Cotton and he was truly a gentleman. He was rather surprised to see us. We introduced ourselves and recounted to him our tale of woe. He listened to us very attentively, and seemed shocked and pained. Then, after a while, he said, 'I believe I can make arrangements for you to stay at my club until I hear from your father. The eldest of you three can help me in my work for which I shall pay him five shillings a week. Is that all right?' "

Vinit asked, "Just five shillings?"

"Five shillings today may not be worth much, but in those days they were as good as five pounds today. But, of course, we who were accustomed to getting two pounds a week each were now about to receive only five shillings for the three of us. It was certainly not an easy transition."

"But if he was wealthy, he could easily have helped you more, since you really were in dire straits."

"Maybe he could have. But, then, the western temperament is very different from ours. It is very independent, and believes that each individual must fight his own battle. In fact, it is by combating difficulties and poverty and pain that man becomes great. It is this attitude towards life that has helped the west to the preeminence it has acquired today. Anyway, now at least we had found a place to sleep, so after thanking Mr. Cotton we went to his club. Later, it was this same Mr. Cotton who wrote on my behalf to the British government so that I might be selected for the I.C.S. The club was situated in one of the most fashionable parts of London - South Kensington - where one found all the big offices and the great homes of the rich. We were very pleased to know that we were to live in such elegant surroundings, but that was before we found out what it was like to live in a club! Every evening the members would gather there and their tipsy talk and loud guffawing would go on till late in the night. Unfortunately that was the only time which we could devote to our studies. We also discovered that clubs were the nerve-centres of British political

Page 57

and social life. Those gentlemen wore the masks of culture and refinement in their homes and removed them in their clubs where they felt free to be themselves. It has always been so, right from the time of the Mermaid Tavern, then the Coffee Houses of the 18th century to the age of Dickens, who describes this in his works. The club is to the Englishman what the salon is to the French. So, it was in such a place of raucousness that we lived. As for me, before I finished my school studies I appeared for the I.C.S. entrance examination and won the scholarship which would qualify me for King's College, Cambridge. By then we had grown up sufficiently to understand that Father must be' facing severe financial difficulties at home and that all our monetary problems could largely be solved if we passed the tests successfully."

"How old were you then?"

"Fifteen or sixteen."

"So young?"

"Not so young after all. In the west, children mature sooner, perhaps due to the education they get. When the youngsters of our country are still tied to the ends of their mothers' saris the youths over there are already set to make their own way through life. That was just one of the reasons why Father was such an admirer of western culture and wanted to turn us into replicas of Englishmen. That Father later stopped sending us money was also perhaps, part of the same plan - to teach us to become independent, and I cannot deny that he achieved his aim."

"But how did the three of you live on five shillings a week?" questioned Rinku in amazement.

"We had to manage, that's all. Not that it was easy, it wasn't", especially since the change in our life-style came so abruptly, after so many years of comfortable living. But one can adjust to any situation if one has to."

"What did you eat and drink?"

"We ate cheap sandwiches and drank tea. For two years, we could afford no winter coats, no fire in the grate. My

Page 58

brothers were a little concerned about me, but I possessed a trait which was greatly to my advantage - neither food nor clothing ever preoccupied me. In fact, I would often forget to eat if I was absorbed in my books. Even the noise in the club did not affect me then. Poor Manomohan was different. Sometimes when he could not bear to live in those conditions any longer, he would dash off a letter to his friends, or he would end up writing poetry!" (Laughter)

"So you were a Yogi even at that early age?"

Sri Aurobindo said with a smile, "Is that all it takes to be a Yogi?"

"We have heard that once there was a terrible cyclone in Pondicherry and your room was flooded but you never noticed it, so absorbed were you in your writing!"

"Yes, there are many other stories about me which say that I live on air, or that I am always plunged in deep meditation or that I can levitate at will! (Laughter) Of course it is true that when I sit down to write, I do forget about everything else."

"We have also heard that once when a cyclone was raging over the town, sweeping away trees and houses, the Mother entered your room to find it filled with a vast and concrete peace. It was as though the terrible Dance of Death dared not enter there. Is it true?"

"Well, if the Mother has recounted it, then it must be true."

"But can the power of peace be felt only during a storm or a cyclone? Not otherwise?"

"Why should it not?"

"But I cannot feel it."

Sri Aurobindo said, "First of all, you must become like the Mother."

"But, Sir, who really is the Mother? Though we call her the Divine Mother, I don't very well understand what that means."

"You will, gradually. Love her with all your heart, and ask her to explain this mystery to you. She will make

Page 59

everything so luminously clear to you that, in the words of the Gita, it will be chhidyaté hridayagranthi, bhidyaté sarva sangshaya, as if all the most secret knots in the mind were cut asunder and all the deepest doubts and hesitations dissolved. No other explanation can have a more profound effect on the being."

"Nirodda once told us in class, about the intensity of your concentration." Everyone turned round to look at me.

"What did he say?"

"He told us how, on a very hot summer day, he found you sitting up, writing. Maybe it was the revision of The Life Divine. And though the table-fan was whirring nearby, Champaklalji and Nirodda found that when you had finished writing, you were wet all over. Even the bedsheets were wet with your perspiration. But you seemed completely unaware of it as you sat there smiling angelically."

"Really? He has exaggerated it, I think! Does he tell you these things in class?"

"Oh no, he is very strict. We plead with him so often to tell us stories about you. He does so sometimes, but only when in the course of a lesson something relevant comes up, then we get little illuminating bits of information - for instance, you hardly ever read books and never 'think' any more."

"That is true. I stopped with thinking long ago - with the realisation of Nirvana."

"Then how did you write so many books?"

"All that I have written in my books is the fruit of my experience, it is not based either on book-knowledge or any external information or the process of thinking things out. All wisdom, peace, bliss, power, everything is forever lodged here." Sri Aurobindo raised his hand above his head. "Below it is a covered receptacle. If you manage to take off the lid you will find knowledge pouring down in a shower of golden light. You follow?

"Speaking of golden light reminds me of something that once happened to the French author, Rousseau. One day he

Page 60

was going to visit his friend Diderot who was in prison. He had in his pocket a journal in which a question had been set for discussion. Taking it out, he glanced at the question with a view to writing an essay on it. Suddenly he felt innumerable ideas pouring down into his head in a golden shower. Unable to bear the weight of this descent he lay down under a tree and was lost in a swoon. When he came to he noticed that tears had coursed down his cheeks uninterruptedly so that the front of his vest was soaked through. But the article he wrote after this incident, though it reverberated throughout the land and won him renown and rewards, did not contain even one hundredth part of those inspired golden ideas that he had received.

"Yes, it could not because the being, which is a receptacle, was too small. But the experience was very real. This is how knowledge flows down. Through the power of Yoga the lid that covers the being is removed and the whole ocean of knowledge comes pouring down. Beside it, mere book-learning resembles a tiny pool on the beach. Have you not read what the Mother has written in her Prayers and Meditations where she says, 'There is a Power' - I don't remember the text exactly."

"Yes, we have read it."

Sri Aurobindo cast a glance at Champaklal who picked the book from the shelf and put it into Sri Aurobindo's hands. Sri Aurobindo began to turn the pages and finding the prayer read it out:

"'December 28, 1928

There is a Power that no ruler can command; there is a Happiness that no earthly success can bring; there is a Light that no wisdom can possess; there is a Knowledge that no philosophy and no science can master; there is a Bliss of which no satisfaction of desire can give the enjoyment; there is a thirst for Love that no human relation can appease; there is a Peace that one finds nowhere, not even in death.

It is the Power, the Happiness, the Light, the Knowledge,

Page 61

the Bliss, the Love, the Peace that flow from the Divine Grace.'

"The Knowledge that Buddha, Shankara, Chaitanya or Vivekananda mastered was of this kind. Ramakrishna had no learning of any sort but the Divine Mother gave him Knowledge."

"Which Divine Mother?"

"Are there two Divine Mothers?"

Outside a fine rain was falling from an overcast sky, making the brightly lit room seem really cosy. As everyone sat, snug and comfortable, Sri Aurobindo announced, "Today's session will be short."

Immediately the lights seemed to dim. A small voice piped up, "Why?" breaking the silence of the room.

Sri Aurobindo laughed, "That is because I have come to the last chapter of my London story. Also, I have some work to finish today."

"Why is it the last chapter?" inquired a newcomer.

"I'll tell you. There we were, two of us facing our final examinations after which we would go our own separate ways, each to follow the lines that fate had drawn for him. I would go to Cambridge, Manomohan to Oxford, and our eldest brother Benoy would probably settle for a solitary existence in London itself. Anyway the examinations were fast approaching. Actually I had three of them to prepare for: the School final exam, the I.C.S. test and one for winning a scholarship to enter Cambridge. Only by this scholarship could I be of some help to my brothers."

"The I.C.S. was a very difficult competitive examination, wasn't it? Only the best Indian boys could appear for it. And you were very young then, barely 16 or 17 years old?"

"That's not too young. And I didn't think the I.C.S. was all that difficult. Indian boys found it difficult because there were so many gaps in their education. You see, the British

Page 62

government did not intend to give us a really fine and strong grounding in education; all they wanted was to produce 'a nation of clerks' as our leaders called it. Otherwise the intellectual capacities our youngsters possess are in no way inferior to those of their western counterparts."

"Why didn't you study with a tutor?" enquired Amal.

"What? When I wasn't always sure of where my next meal was coming from, you ask why I didn't have a tutor? If it hadn't been for the kindness of Mr. Cotton we wouldn't even have had a place to sleep."

"What about your father? Did he know about your circumstances?"

"His letters were few and far between, and only very rarely would he send us some money -" Sri Aurobindo added laughing, "not enough for the needs of three young men. From time to time, instead of money, he sent us newspaper cuttings and a great deal of advice!"

Everyone sat looking at Sri Aurobindo, silent, curious, puzzled.

"Those cuttings described the acts of injustice and cruelty suffered by Indians at the hands of the British. They were meant to arouse in us a sense of patriotism."

"But was he not a great admirer of the British?" asked Kriti.

"He had once been, though only for a few years, at the beginning of his career. On his return to India from England, he had expected to find the British in India to be similar to those he had met in England who were noble and just and generous. But he soon found that the Englishman here was quite different from the one in his home-country. In India the British were masters, we were their slaves. This was the usual relationship. Being in government service, my father was made to feel sharply the distinction they made between the two races. When he was the Civil Surgeon in Rangpur, he was on very good terms with the District Magistrate who never undertook anything important without first consulting my father. The people there called my

Page 63

father 'the king of Rangpur'. He had a canal, several miles long, dug through the town to help the people. They called it the K.D. Canal. But when this Magistrate was replaced by another, the latter could not tolerate the fact that my father was so loved and admired, so he had him transferred. It was this sort of prejudiced behaviour that changed my father's attitude towards the British and awoke in him a sense of nationalism. Many other happenings, big and small, made him gradually realise that unless our country became free it could never make any real progress, and he wanted us to understand this. In fact, he played not a small part in arousing in me the patriotic feeling.

"But, you see, right then there were more pressing problems that needed to be solved. I had, first of all, to apply myself with more industry to my studies. Until then, I had tripped my way through the examinations, but the time had come to take matters more seriously. Of course, deep down within, I was confident I would be given a scholarship. Now, my elder brother Benoy too was studying for the I.C.S. examination; that may have given an added impetus to my preparation. Manomohan would enquire, from time . to time, how we were faring and would keep our father informed about our progress."

"Weren't you nervous?" (Laughter)

"He's asking you this because he himself becomes so easily nervous!" broke in Sameer. "He is a bundle of nerves, just before a test or a match. I simply can't convince him that it is not all that important whether one passes or fails, or one wins or loses. Why should one become so terribly tense?"

"Exactly. What is important is to do one's level best. And if the results are bad, one should not feel crushed, just as one should not feel excessively elated by success either. This is one of the most important lessons of life, to face alt happenings with calm and poise. So, there I was, ready to face the examinations. When they were over, I found that

Page 64

one of my answer papers brought me a scholarship and the other a stipend.

"Thus, the road to Cambridge was paved. And time it was too for our household to break up - the three of us who had lived so long together, quarrelling, sharing all our good and bad fortunes, had now to strike out separately, each to follow his star. I was the first to leave. My brothers came to the station to see me off as I boarded the train to Cambridge. I had heard so much about both Oxford and Cambridge. It was said that the finest students from all over the world went there to pursue their studies, which, when completed, helped them to take their place among the greatest poets, writers, scientists and political leaders of their time. I wondered if I would meet other young Indians at Cambridge. There was so much to see, to learn, to know. Such were my thoughts as the train carried me to my destination. The first thing that struck me when I arrived there was the peace, the quiet. After the continuous turbulence of London, a veritable ocean of noise, the silence of the chequered shade along the banks of the river Cam was very welcome, the right setting indeed for a seat of learning. I found that my spirit was absolutely in harmony with its mood as I finally went up to the room that had been allotted to me. It was certainly not very big, but it was spick and Span. Though there was nothing luxurious about it, it seemed to me like very heaven, coming as I was from my dark London days. I do not remember everything about my life at Cambridge, for so many important events have occurred since then that those tender memories of my youth have been crushed under their weight. Anyway, for your sake I'll try to revive whatever I can. One thing I remember was that hardly had I settled in when I was invited to have coffee with one of my professors, or dons as they were called. Surprised, are you, at such an early invitation? But then you might note that the relationship one had with one's professors, particularly at Oxford and Cambridge, was nothing like the one between students and teachers in the

Page 65

orthodox, old-fashioned Indian schools - pāthśālās. In England, at residential universities like Oxford and Cambridge, professors and students eat and drink together, and relax in one another's company, though the professors are treated with all the respect that is their due. Anyway, when I presented myself for that coffee, I found that it was to be in the company of the well-known professor of our college, Oscar Browning or the 'great O.B.' as the students called him. He began the evening by praising me very highly, saying, 'I suppose you know you passed an extraordinarily high examination. I have examined papers at thirteen examinations and I have never during that time seen such excellent papers as yours' - meaning my Classical papers, at the scholarship examination. 'As for your essay' - a comparison between Shakespeare and Milton - 'it was wonderful.' Later I wrote all this to my father describing the way my life at Cambridge had begun."

Sri Aurobindo had almost finished speaking when the light failed and the room was plunged in darkness. When the electricity came back, a few minutes later, we saw the Mother standing in the doorway. Everyone turned to look at her, surprised and wondering. She was holding a piece of paper in her hand. She entered the room smiling. The children realised that it was time for them to leave.

"As I told you last time, my life at Cambridge began with an invitation to have coffee with one of the dons. There I met O.B., who complimented me very heartily on my work. Right away, I decided that I would pursue my studies in all earnestness."

"Did your professors ask you about your family?"

"Oh no! Englishmen don't usually ask you personal questions, unlike our countrymen. What we Indians call warmth and friendliness, they consider to be undue curiosity and lack of respect, particularly with strangers. For example,

Page 66

here, you may find that someone travelling in the same railway compartment as you will soon become familiar with all the complexities of your family life! But in England it is quite different. A gentleman trying to chat with the lady sitting next to him will find himself very distinctly snubbed. If one must strike up a conversation, then there is a whole process to be followed. You must first drop the book or newspaper that you were reading; the other person will then pick it up for you and you will politely thank him. And only after that can a conversation begin! (Laughter) Of course, I was perfectly happy with this mode of behaviour since by nature I am rather reticent. Anyway I'm sure you have heard a great deal about Cambridge. Both Oxford and Cambridge have been, down the centuries, proud centres of education. Two whole towns have grown around them and they live solely by and for these universities. Students from far and near gather there in quest of excellence in knowledge, just as the great medieval scholar Abelard drew around him, in Paris, hundreds of seekers of wisdom. During the holidays all these streets grow empty and silent. The high-domed colleges are beautiful with their big halls and refectories. Alongside the university where I studied flows the gentle river Cam, murmuring softly."

"Is it a big river?"

"Big enough to provide excellent opportunities for boat races or, if one prefers, for spending pleasant evenings relaxing in a boat on its waters."

Rohit asked, "What are refectories?"

"They are long narrow rooms used for meals. They are peculiar to monasteries and colleges.

"All the students and their professors eat together in them; it is characteristic of the education there. The long tables are laid, with chairs on either side, and special arrangements are made nearby for the professors. Eating together is an occasion for everybody to get acquainted and exchange views about all kinds of subjects. Also, it brings the students closer to their professors. You understand,

Page 67

I hope, how much it helps to make their education really living. Mere lecturing in classrooms can become so very soulless!"

"It seems there are several things in common between what we have here and the colleges there. We too read and play and eat together," said Vinit,

"Do you also exchange views and ideas?"

"Yes, we do."

"Indeed! I seem to hear mostly about cricket and football and basketball!"

"No, it is not quite so. We also talk about Gandhi and Nehru, Johnson and Goldsmith. We are also curious about atom bombs. We discuss so many world-events, our physics and chemistry lessons - the computer which is the latest craze. It has invaded all the fields of life."

"I remember that politics was a favourite subject, particularly among us Indian students."

"Were there many Indians at Cambridge?"

"Oh yes! It was there that I first met other Indians. Together we formed a group which we called the 'Indian Majlis'. It was primarily a political group. We discussed the British exploitation of our country and ways and means to free her from this slavery. At one time I became the secretary of this group. I think I have told you already that during my stay in London I had had the first inklings of the direction my life was to take in the future. I had foreseen great and violent upheavals in my motherland in which I would have to play a major role. I had known this even as a boy and had been preparing myself inwardly for it ever since. By the time I came to Cambridge my political philosophy had become clear, and I knew in my very marrow that I would work for India's freedom. The meetings of the Majlis gave me the occasion to express my patriotic views."

"But did not the government or even your college authorities put restrictions on you and the Majlis?"

"No, England is a free country. It is true that the British

Page 68

insisted on keeping India a slave nation, but in England itself the government could not withhold the basic democratic rights from the people, among which were the freedom of expression as well as the freedom of association. But I am sure that the government kept watch on the movement and knew about the meetings. The college authorities concerned themselves only with our studies. We were free to do as we pleased provided we did not lag behind in our work. You see, every student in Cambridge was assigned a tutor who evaluated his performance. He followed him up closely and helped him, if necessary. Of course, I had no worries as far as my studies were concerned. I carried on my triple activities of study, politics and writing poetry, without any difficulty whatsoever. They did not come in the way of one another."

"Was it because you wanted freedom for India that you failed in the I.C.S. examination?"

"Yes, you may say so, though many believe it was because I failed in the riding test. You are taught, aren't you, in the Bengali nursery rhyme that whoever works and studies well gets to ride in cars and carriages? Well, I didn't get to ride a horse! (Laughter) Anyway, I believe that by then all the activities of the Indian Majlis were being reported to the India Office. Whenever famous or prominent Indians visited Cambridge, we would invite them to attend the Majlis meetings. They were rather old and moderate in their views;

we were young hotheads and so the arguments flew fast and sharp between us."

"But the Indian leaders of the time preferred that the youth, instead of meddling with politics, concentrate on studies and self-development. Wasn't that so?"

"Yes, and in a way, they were right. But it is also true that there come moments in the history of a nation when her sons are required to sacrifice their all for the sake of their motherland. And that is just what our boys did. Of course, at Cambridge, we were not expected to go that far. This reminds me of an amusing detail about our Majlis.

Page 69

The majority of those young men who made the most fiery speeches returned to India either to become government officials or to accept the contented and humdrum existence of well-married householders. What an irony!" (Laughter)

"Was Chittaranjan Das a friend of yours?"

"Yes, I met him in London, after leaving Cambridge."

"Did you speak to him in Bengali?"

Sri Aurobindo answered laughing, "No. I had only learned to read Bengali. I wasn't yet accustomed to speaking it. My Bengali teacher at Cambridge was Mr. Towers whom we called 'Pandit Towers'. His knowledge of Bengali was limited to the works of Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar and other early writers of Sanskritised prose. One day, just for the fun of it, I took a passage of Bankim to him. After reading it carefully Pandit Towers turned round and said, 'But this is not Bengali!' (Laughter)

"He spoke Bengali with a strong British accent. Actually I learned it from a scholarly Bengali gentleman, in Baroda."

"Our elders tell us that the mother-tongue is the most sound and true basis for all education."

"Yes, I believe so too and have said so quite often. But, on the other hand, in a school where there are children from various states and nations, a common language has to be used as the medium of instruction."

"Your English poems, particularly the early ones, seem thoroughly English. It is as if English were indeed your mother-tongue."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"They are rather difficult." (Laughter)

"Oh, then it means that your English is weak."

"But I find no difficulty in understanding the poetry of Shelley or Keats."

"That's because they are Romantics and so are primarily emotional poets. Some of my early writings were often compact and had a greater thought content, rather in the classical style. Perhaps that is why you find them harder

Page 70

to follow. .But to English readers they do not seem difficult."

"Did you write a lot of poetry?"

"Yes, a great deal. I also destroyed much of what I wrote."

"What? You tore it up?"

"Well, all of it was not equally good. Poems written in youth have the lushness of green fields after the first rains. But more is required to make them good literature."

"You did not appear for the riding test in your I.C.S.?"

"No. They gave me another chance, but I again did not appear and finally they rejected me."

"But then why did you appear for the I.C.S.? Was it by some intuition that you did not take the riding test?"

"Not at all. I knew nothing about Yoga at that time. I appeared for the I.C.S. because my father wanted it and I was too young to understand. Later, I found out what sort of work it was and I had a disgust for an administrator's life and I had no interest in administrative work. My interest was in poetry and literature and study of languages and patriotic action."

"But if you did not intend to join the government service, why did you take the trouble to study so much?"

"What was I to do? My father had a long-cherished dream that one day his sons would become magistrates. To this end he sent us, in our earliest childhood, to England. At that age I had no idea of what the I.C.S. or the I,M.S. was, and like a good boy, did as I was told, which pleased him. But later, as I grew older, I began to understand what I wanted to do in life, and it certainly was not to become an I.C.S. officer, since by then I had formed a clearer idea of what it meant to join the British Service. But I knew that my father had set his heart on my joining it and I just could not hurt him by telling him harshly that I was not going to. So I had to use a more devious method."

"That is to say?"

"Well, I studied hard and passed the written examination

Page 71

rather easily but, when it came to the riding test, I simply

failed to appear!"

"Is that so? But there are people who insist that you failed because you did not know how to ride a horse."

"That is true. But in order to join the I.C.S. one does not need to be a professional rider; one may simply spend a few shillings in order to learn how to sit on a horse."

"If your father had discovered the trick you had played on him, he would surely have been very displeased."

"Perhaps he would. However, both my English and Indian friends were very upset by my failure to join the I.C.S. When one of my tutors, Mr. Prothero, heard of the reason why I had been failed, he was very annoyed. Along with Mr. James Cotton, the gentleman who had given us shelter in London, he began a regular battle with the authorities. Mr. Prothero wrote them a long letter, which some of you must have read."

I stood up and offered to get the book containing the letter, from my room just outside. I brought it and said to Sri Aurobindo, "This one letter will be enough to describe your student days to the children, Sir." I began to read it aloud:

'I am sorry to hear what you tell. me about Ghose, that he has been rejected in his final I.C.S. Examination for failure in riding. His conduct throughout his two years here was most exemplary. He held a foundation scholarship, which he obtained by open competition, in classics. He also obtained certain college prizes, showing command of English and literary ability. That a man should have been able to do this and at the same time to keep up his I.C.S. work, proves very unusual industry and capacity. Besides his classical scholarship, he possessed a knowledge of English literature far beyond the average of undergraduates, and wrote a much better English style than most Englishmen. That a man of this calibre should be lost to the Indian government merely because he failed in sitting on a horse or did not keep an appointment appears to me a piece of official short-sightedness which it would be hard to beat.

Page 72

'Moreover the man has not only ability but character. He has had a very hard and anxious time of it for the last two years. Supplies from home have almost entirely failed, and he has had to keep his two brothers as well as himself, and yet his courage and perseverance have never failed. I have several times written to his father on his behalf, but for the most part unsuccessfully. It is only lately that I managed to extract from him enough to pay some tradesmen who would otherwise have put his son into the Country Court. I am quite sure that these pecuniary difficulties were not due to any extravagance on Ghose's part: his whole way of life, which was simple and penurious in the extreme, is against this. They were due entirely to circumstances beyond his control. But they must have hampered him in many ways, and probably prevented him from spending enough on horses to enable him to learn to ride. I can fully believe that his inability to keep his appointment at Woolwich was due to the want of cash.

'In conclusion, I hope sincerely that your efforts to reinstate him as a Selected Candidate will prove successful, for I think, if he is finally turned out, it will be, however legally justifiable, a moral injustice to him, and a very real loss to the Indian government.'

After I had finished reading the letter, Sri Aurobindo said:

"Such were the arguments advanced by Mr. Prothero. But the most amusing thing was that the very person for whom he was pleading so eloquently had already queered his own pitch completely! Several chances were given to me to take the riding test. I was repeatedly asked to be present at a given time on the field. Several letters to this effect were sent to me. But I never answered, never showed up. Either I was not at home or was late in coming home that day, or I had not received the messages. And if I did appear for the test it was not at the appropriate time; for example, I would present myself at 1 o'clock whereas the test had been fixed for 10 in the morning! Finally, the authorities grew so tired

Page 73

and annoyed with all this that they failed me. They stated that Ghose had bothered them excessively! Prothero's effort proved fruitless." {Loud laughter)

"So you did it all on purpose?" asked Anirban.

"What else was I to do? Since they seemed bent on offering me the post, I had to use all my cunning not to get it. Though actually, towards the end, I doubted if they still would have agreed to give me the job. That I had not passed the riding test was not a very important consideration, since several others were allowed to join the I.C.S. even though they had failed it. Mr. Prothero did not know that in my case there were other graver complaints weighing against me."

The children were all ears.

"You see, poor Mr. Prothero did not know that I had become an out-and-out revolutionary openly declaring my intention to help destroy the British empire, and this was the main substance of the fiery speeches I was making at the Indian Majlis. If Mr. Prothero had known about these activities of mine, he would most certainly have changed his opinion of me.

"Anyway, the evening when I was told that I had failed in the I.C.S. examination, I returned home and told my brother Benoy, 'I'm chucked.' "

"Chucked? What is that?" asked Bittu.

"That is to say, I'm rejected! He seemed somewhat depressed at the news, though he did not say anything. He was always rather a quiet and patient chap, a realist who never argued against the inevitable. But when Manomohan heard it he was furious. You see, the poor fellow had built a whole castle of dreams on the strength of my being accepted for the post. This would fetch me a fat salary which would make it possible for him to fulfil his hopes and desires. But here was I, an ass, who had carelessly ruined everything for him! After a while, of course, he cooled down and said, 'Oh well! no point in useless recriminations. Let's play cards!'

"My days at Cambridge were thus over, and I returned to London without a degree. All I had was a certificate stating

Page 74

that I had passed the written test for the I.C.S. Of course, I was entitled to a B.A. degree, though I did not take it. Perhaps I could tell you two amusing anecdotes about our Indian Majlis at Cambridge before I resume my story in London. I shall do it tomorrow."

Sri Aurobindo began: "I remember one occasion when we were discussing the question of independence of subject nations. One of the undergraduates was loudly lecturing us about the Egyptians and their fight for independence. 'The Egyptians rose as one man,' he proclaimed impressively. When he had made this full-throated announcement for the third time, another member interrupted him saying, 'But how many times did they sit down?' (Laughter)

"Here is another one. Well, a Punjabi student at Cambridge once took our breath away by the frankness and comprehensive profundity of his affirmation: 'Liars! But we are all liars!' It appeared that he had intended to say 'lawyers', but his pronunciation gave his remark a deep force of philosophic observation and generalisation which he had not intended! But it seems to me the last word in human nature." (Laughter)

"Did you make any friends at Cambridge?"

"Not really. I have already told you, haven't I, that I was never an easy mixer or an extrovert. But I met many kinds of people, particularly after joining the Majlis. I was its secretary at one time, and often used to make rather eloquent speeches at those meetings. Yes, I was acquainted with quite a number of people but I never had very many friends, and certainly no English ones. It was not as though the English disliked me, on the contrary I think they looked up to me with respect. Perhaps if I had joined them on the playing fields - the British love sports - we may have grown closer. Some people even thought that I could not enjoy my life in England just because I was not fond of games. But

Page 75

actually in those days I believed that the British were indeed a race of shopkeepers, and that the French were far more truly cultured. And though I had never seen France, I was always very much drawn to it. Perhaps the main reason why I disliked the British was that they were our colonial masters. The resolve to free my motherland was constantly burning within me. This was why after the Majlis at Cambridge, I joined the 'Lotus and Dagger'society in London."

"What a strange name!" exclaimed Sudeep.

"Isn't it? Rather romantic, I thought. My studies at Cambridge being over, we were together again, my brothers and 1. They were worried about what to do with me, but I was not disturbed at all about my future. In fact, I can't say that I have ever bothered my head about myself. Either others have done it for me, upsetting themselves terribly in the process, or I have quietly done whatever was to be done. That is how I have worked for the country; that is how I am still working for you all. I have always been quick to realise where my duty lies; you may say that some kind of intuition reveals it to me, because it is neither intelligence nor thought which gives it. It was thus that I felt I shouldn't join the I.C.S., and you see I did not. I decided that my country must become free, and nothing else took precedence over that. It was in that spirit that I joined the 'Lotus and Dagger' society. I had heard that the aim of this secret association was to liberate the motherland. Fortunately or unfortunately, the association was still-born. As I have already told you my brothers were racking their brains trying to decide what to do with me.

"It is strange how things arrange themselves at times. For example, I failed in the I.C.S. and was looking for a job exactly when the Gaekwar happened to be in London. I don't know whether he called us or we met him, but an elderly gentleman whom we consulted was quite willing to propose Rs.200 per month, that is, he thought £10 was a good enough sum, and the Gaekwar went about telling

Page 76

people that he had got a civilian for Rs.200. It is surprising my eldest brother and James Cotton were quite satisfied with Rs. 200 per month. I had left the negotiation to them as I knew nothing about life at that time.

"So there you are, I had been tricked! But neither Mr. Cotton nor any of us three brothers was the least bit practical or knowledgeable as regards money, otherwise we might well have asked for three hundred rupees. As far as I was concerned, two hundred rupees could very well be one hundred; I didn't mind the difference.

"However, at least I got a job. I was getting ready to pack for home when an amusing incident occurred. A certain tailor I knew came down from Cambridge to see me. He somehow traced me there and found Manomohan also. Then he canvassed orders from him. Manomohan went in for a velvet suit, not staring red but aesthetic brown. He used to visit Oscar Wilde in that suit. Then we came away to India. But the tailor was not to be deprived of his dues. He wrote to the government of Bengal and to the Baroda government for recovering the sum from Manomohan and me. I had paid up all my dues and kept £4 or so and I did not think that I was bound to pay it since he always charged me double! But as the Gaekwar said I had better pay it, I paid. (Laughter) ,

"Anyway, there I was with a job. The Maharaja was very pleased with himself that he had taken, in his employ, a rather young man, and an Indian to boot whom he could easily command to do his every bidding."

"Weren't you pleased?"

"Yes, of course, since it seemed to lighten the burden of my brothers' worries."

"Didn't you have worries of your own?"

"I've told you that I never bothered about myself. To make a fuss about oneself and one's needs had always seemed to me a poverty of spirit. You understand what I mean?"

"But unless one thinks about these things how can one

Page 77

carry on? Shouldn't one make an effort?"

"To make an effort is one thing, to worry constantly about one's affairs is quite another. I was always confident that whatever I needed would be given to me. And that is exactly how things happened."

"How can you say that? Look how much you had to suffer," said Vikas.

Sri Aurobindo replied laughing, "How do you know that that was not necessary? And the moment it was no longer needed, I found a job waiting for me. Look at it this way. I've just told you how wonderfully things got arranged for me. Though I wasn't selected for the I.C.S. post, I had fared well in the written portion, so I received a grand sum of 150 pounds, that is to say Rs.3000. This was a government rule, we were told. For me, this money was really providential at that juncture - Mr. Cotton and my brothers had explained to me that I must try to make the most of this opportunity. I sent in the petition and the money was granted. With it I could pay my passage back home as well as help my brothers to an extent. I felt that I had become rich overnight, and all the memories of the poverty and hardship of the preceding few years simply dissolved, as if they had never been. What will you call this: Chance? Coincidence?"

"So then we too need never worry, and live merrily, careless of tomorrow."

"Oh! I did not know that you were crushed under the weight of difficulties! (Laughter) But truly speaking, becoming free of problems and worries is not as easy as it sounds. To remain equal in all circumstances, while a living faith flames constantly within - such is the basis for Yoga. And the Divine Himself will carry all the burden of the Yogi. This is what all of you have come here to learn."

"But you did not believe in Him at that time, did you?" asked Pooja.

"I can't say that there was absolute disbelief, either. In any case, though I may have lacked faith in Him, He had

Page 78

faith in me! (Laughter) I also possessed self-confidence and equanimity.

"This reminds me of a small incident. Once my brother fell ill, and I was somewhat perturbed by it. Then, in my sleep, I heard a voice tell me, 'Why do you worry so much? Remain quiet and all will be well.' Immediately my mind fell silent, of itself; my brother got well, too.

"You see, behind every circumstance or event, there is a play of many forces. We only look at the incident, and think and judge and draw conclusions accordingly. To the ordinary eye, for example, my meeting with the Maharaja may seem a coincidence or a fortuitous event. But those who are not satisfied with such quick and easy deductions and look at life with a deeper insight may often discover hints of the real truth behind the outer veil of circumstances. I am absolutely definite that my long association of 13 or 14 years with the Maharaja could not have been founded on mere chance and my later life repeatedly proved me right. But the work I was given by the Maharaja was fundamentally the same as the one I might have been offered by the British government - that is it was a civilian's post all right. Only I had decided never to work for our colonial masters, and to that decision I stuck.

"On the given date, I left England. I embarked on the S.S. Carthage to return home after a prolonged exile which had lasted almost as long as Rama's. I had left India as a child; I was returning as a young man, with the beginnings of a moustache! A sahib, outwardly very westernised - that is how I looked. My brothers came to see me off."

"Weren't you unhappy to leave England?" enquired Rahul.

"Unhappy? Because I left my brothers behind, or because of the land where I had lived so long? As regards my relation with my brothers, I must tell you that among the three of us there had never been a very strong bond of brotherhood. The sense of oneness in a family, the very great closeness of blood-ties, all this is very often found in the east, in India,

Page 79

China, Japan. But it does not easily flower in the individualistic society of England. Perhaps Manomohan, being a poet, may have been sufficiently carried away to have written about fraternal sentiments. And as regards my feelings about England, I think I have already told you that I felt little or no affection for it. Isn't it strange? The land I had lived in for so long, ever since childhood, and whose literature I loved so deeply, did not draw me at all, whereas another country - France - which was unknown to me in this life bound me to herself with ties of a deep devotion. Perhaps I never really cared for England, not only because she had made India her colonial slave, but also because I never liked her trade-mentality. I remember once when a classmate of mine in Cambridge proudly compared England to ancient Athens, I objected to that. On the whole a different comparison would be more apt. I said, 'Not Athens, but Corinth, a commercial state, would be a more apt parallel.' Of course they never liked my frankness of speech. They may have also thought that for the lonely book-worm that I was, who never enjoyed fun, games or companionship, it was natural to think thus. Though, to be fair, they never really disliked me as a person.

"Napoleon anticipated my opinion of the English when he called them a nation of shopkeepers! (Laughter) Anyway, I left England, though not its literature, and sailed homewards, to a land that was still ruled by the foreigner. By then, my father was no longer in this world. Before leaving it he had made plenty of plans for me. He had even planned for his civilian son to work in Arrah in Bihar; Sir Henry Cotton was to be my guardian, so that my entry into the glamorous British society would be smooth and easy. So many of his dreams were centred upon me, and it was really a cruel irony of fate that a mere piece of wrong information hurt him mortally and he could not even live to see his son return from England. I suppose you know all this."

"We've forgotten many of the details. Couldn't you tell us the whole story?"

Page 80

Sri Aurobindo said, "Oh! Well; you see, till the end, my father believed that I had passed the I.C.S. examination and that I would return to India very soon. He took a month's leave and went to Bombay to bring me home in triumph. But at that time, even the date of my departure from England had not been fixed, and so, after a long wait, he went back from Bombay. Then, a few weeks later, the Steamship Agency sent him a telegram informing him that the boat on which his son was to have sailed had sunk. The shock of this sudden and tragic news was such that he died of heart-failure. But though I was to have sailed on that ship, last-minute difficulties had made me change my plans. Thus the same hand of Fate that killed the father saved the son! The only thing for which I was thankful was that he had never found out that I had failed in the I.C.S. examination. Later I read a letter he had written to my maternal uncle which made me realise what great hopes he had built around the three of us. In that letter, he confidently wrote: In the three sons I have produced, I have produced giants. I may not, but you will live to be proud of the three nephews who will adorn your country and shed lustre to your name.... Auro, I hope, will yet glorify his country by a brilliant administration. I shall not live to see it, but remember this letter if you do.... He is at King's College, Cambridge, now, borne there by his own ability.

"Did you notice that he has twice suggested in this letter that he might not live long? And yet he had always been enormously self-confident. Evidently he must have had some premonition, some inkling, about the future."

"One small bit of misinformation, and yet how catastrophic the result!" said Chaitanya.

"This is how things happen, have been happening for ages. Innumerable instances can show you how apparently small mistakes can cause great harm. But if you go to the root of the matter you will find yourself facing a strange mystery. Every happening is part of a single causal chain. Neither my father's death nor my being saved was due to

Page 81

chance, though the ordinary mind may think so."

"Yes, it does seem so."

Sri Aurobindo went on: "When you will have grown up and can look back at your life, you may understand that there is no such thing as chance. An invisible Hand is guiding you from behind the veil of external incidents, particularly those who are born with a great mission.... However, to pick up the thread of my story - I left England on board the Carthage. Though it was a storm-tossed journey, the ship didn't sink.

"This life and this world of ours are very complex realities. So many forces are at work which you will understand only when you learn to look on them with the eye of Yoga. But this you must know that in all things, in their very substance, is the Divine. He is always there, whether overtly or secretly. This game of hide-and-seek that He plays, this Play of His is never easy to fathom.

"No, indeed, mind cannot explain this huge universal mechanism that God has created. His workings are mysterious; of this I can give you a luminous proof. When my ship reached Bombay and I disembarked at the Apollo Bunder, and touched the Indian soil, something miraculous happened. I felt a vast silence enveloping the earth and a deep motionless calm descended into me. Behind the hurly-burly of the city and its constantly shifting sea of sound reigned this silence. In fact, it seemed to uphold the noise. I was completely absorbed in this unmoving quiet. I myself was surprised at such an unexpected experience, but there was no room for disbelief, so concrete and real it was. I was then 21 years old and I had not done any kind of Sadhana before. I had read about the Self, the Atman, in a book by Max Miiller and tried mentally to have a sense of it. There was not much of a success, but I decided to find out what the Self was. That's all. I was not even certain that my sudden experience was a spiritual one. I have told you that I was quite indifferent about God and religion. What I wanted

Page 82

most passionately was the freedom of my motherland. My country was my God. But this experience seemed to impose itself upon me. It was as though Someone was waiting for my arrival in India."

The children listened, entranced and wondering, to Sri Aurobindo's deep, soft voice. Then one of them said: "What a strange and unusual experience! Does it have anything to do with realising the Divine?"

"The Divine is the Infinite and manifests Himself in infinite ways. What I had felt was the still motionless Self, that is all-pervading, like the ether. But I myself did not understand at the time the spiritual quality of the experience. I only learned to look around me with new eyes. They were no longer the same ones which had till then helped me to see the world. My motherland welcomed me home by unveiling her true self before me. I had seen England, now I looked at India - there was a difference. This first experience taught me many profound truths. I realised that India was the land of spirituality, that many other new discoveries still awaited me. But all the same, my doubts and reservations regarding the Divine did not even then disappear entirely."

"The Mother also has said that there is a spiritual quality in this land of India - in its skies and its breezes. When she came to Pondicherry the second time, after her long stay in Japan, she saw from her ship a blue light covering Pondicherry, which even extended a few miles across the ocean. Was your experience a settled and permanent one?"

"It apparently left me by the time I reached Baroda, but it was there in the background. You see, these perceptions are not very easily mastered. They come for a special purpose, as indications of the Truth. One must really be an adept, a veritable sadhak, in order to make them well-founded and permanent."

"So it was to Baroda that you went on your arrival in India, not to Bengal?"

"Yes, because I was expected to join the service immediately

Page 83

on reaching India. I had told myself that after finalising the arrangements and conditions of work there, I would pay a visit home. Anyway, where was the hurry? My father was no more, neither was my mother, in a manner of speaking. She wasn't at all well, her mind was very sick. As a matter of fact, it was quite some time before I could finally go home."

"Did you teach at the Baroda College?" questioned Anshu.

"Much later. At first I worked in the government office, as most I.C.S. chaps have to do. Like them, I too had to get acquainted with the various governmental departments, it was bureaucratic work."

"We're told that you did not enjoy that kind of work," said Aloka.

"You have heard right. But little though I liked the work, I did it to the best of my ability. It was not that the work was difficult, only it was not to my taste. Of course, I continued with my reading and my writing, which were to me a constant source of pleasure. I also learned to love my family, my relatives, whom I visited during the holidays. There were my maternal grandfather and uncles and brother, sister and cousins and I used to long for the holidays, just like a child, so that I might go and live with them. The first time that I went home, that is to my grandfather's house at Deoghar, - since we didn't have a place of our own any more - and I met my family, what a joy there was all around! It was as if I was a king. Particularly my younger brother and sister were overjoyed. There was also another young girl, a cousin who was at school. Maybe they all were a little nonplussed by me. For, when I arrived with my large trunks, they crowded round me, hoping to find all sorts of presents, but were most disappointed when they found that I had brought a veritable bookshop!"

"You also ordered lots and lots of books from Bombay while you were in Baroda, didn't you?" asked Vinit.

"I did order a good number of them. On seeing all my

Page 84

books, my relatives decided that I was a dry-as-dust book-worm and scholar. Of course, when they heard me tell stories, they quickly changed their opinion of me!"

"What stories?" asked Ram with curiosity.

"Oh, stories of my life in England, of how I almost became a Christian, of the Drewett household and how I . failed the riding test. I also spoke to them about history and literature."

"You really sat and told them stories?"

"Why, don't you believe me, children? The older people in the Ashram always think of me as a stern schoolmaster, forever with a rod in his hand! And have they now converted you too to this belief?" (Laughter)

"No, no, they did not tell us anything of the sort. It's your books. They are so difficult that they make us believe that you are very serious and stern. Fortunately we have met you and seen for ourselves how you are."

"So the real culprits are the books?"

"Actually we started understanding you better after reading your correspondence with Nirodda."

"Thank God for those letters! Otherwise I would have had to live forever with this forbidding reputation! (Laughter) All those notions about me are quite wrong. First of all, I am not a dried-up old scholar, never have been. Poets and writers deal with life, its essences of joys and passions. And one who has known the Divine, the very core and essence of all bliss and all life, raso vai sah, can he ever reject the joy of existence?"

"But ascetics and Sannyasis? They too have realised God," put in Gita.

"But they have turned away from the world, calling it an illusion. Theirs is an incomplete Divine, since they reject His creation. This division and conflict is the root-cause of their outer joylessness. But the universe still exists in spite of everything. It continues to survive just because it is upheld by a divine delight, what Nirod and Amal would call 'a luminous laughter'. The English say that humour is the salt

Page 85

of life. And certainly human folly makes God laugh endlessly. My eldest maternal uncle too was full of a fine sense of humour. He laughed a lot and easily and could make friends with one and all. He used to tease me by calling me 'O my England-educated nephew, O greatest of scholars, O learned judge!' When I used to visit my family, I couldn't even satisfactorily indulge in my favourite pastime - reading. I had to wait for the whole family to go to bed before I could take up my books. In any case, I had always been a night-bird. In England I used to go to bed late and wake up late too, though not as late as Johnson who never left his bed before 10 in the morning! I'm afraid I rarely followed the adage that I'm sure you have all been taught - 'Early to bed, early to rise....' "

Pooja excitedly completed it - " 'Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.' But you disprove the adage - for you are so strong in health, you have the wealth of the universe and you are the wisest of the wise."

The other children appreciated very warmly Pooja's quick and beautifully apt reply.

Sri Aurobindo smiled and continued, "Perhaps getting up late was partly due to the cold climate. I mean, who would like to get out of a warm snug bed on a cold wintry day, especially if it was raining or snowing, and the sun rarely showing its face before eight or nine in the morning? In Baidyanath, at my uncle's house, of course the sun rose early, but I didn't follow suit. My uncle would sometimes jokingly comment apropos of the flower-suggestion of my name Aurobindo, 'The sun's rays have failed to disclose the lotus petals!' (Laughter)

"Of course, I knew how to get my own back and teased him just as much. I called my uncle by a name which made him immortal. From then on, young and old addressed him as the prophet of Isabgul."

"Why? And what is Isabgul?"

"Because of his unswerving faith in Isabgul, a very fine husk, as an infallible remedy. He would prescribe it for any

Page 86

and every ailment - whether it was cold, fever or indigestion! Anyway he understood that his nephew could give back as good as he got.

"At Baidyanath there was also my maternal grandfather of whom I have already spoken to you. He was very gentle and kind, and handsome too, with his silvery hair and beard framing his serene face lit by an inner glow. To everyone he was Rishi Rajnarayan. He used to tell me so many things about philosophy and religion, about my country and its past, its poets and its saints. A great scholar and sage, he was also a true patriot. Perhaps my brothers and I inherited many of his traits. My father may have been an atheist, but my mother was the daughter of a man of deep faith."

"Why don't you tell us something about your mother?"

"When I returned from England, I found that she was not well. Actually her mind had been unstable for years and this had been one of Father's biggest worries. He used to love her very much and did his best for her. He had taken a separate house just for her. When I went to see her she did not even recognise me. 'Is this my Auro?' she asked. 'No, it can't be! Auro is just a little boy.' And then she added, 'My Auro has a scar on his finger.' It was only after she saw the scar that she took me lovingly in her arms. My father had tried every means possible, spending a lot of money on her treatment, but to no avail. Finally she had to live confined, away from everybody else.

"Baidyanath was a quiet place, with green hills surrounding it. I used to wander among these hills, and sometimes even go out to practise shooting with Barin. Once, on our way back from one such shooting expedition, my aunt discovered our doings and angrily remarked, 'These two boys are surely going to hang some day.' Her words proved to be almost prophetic! (Laughter)

"My short vacation at the beginning of the year, so full of happiness and love and laughter, would seem to fly past and once again it was time to return to my dull joyless work in Baroda. And I was always reminded of Judas, then."

Page 87

"Who is Judas?" asked Sudeep.

"Yes, yes, Nirodda read out to us a letter of yours which we liked immensely - the one you wrote to your sister Saro, relating the story of Judas Iscariot."

Vinit curiously asked, "Which letter? Which story? Nirodda does not take our class, so we don't know it."

Sri Aurobindo asked with a sweet smile, "Oh, you mean the one I wrote to Saro from Baroda, about not being able to go to Baidyanath for the Puja?"

"Yes, yes!" shouted a few eager voices.

"Well, you see, neither my affairs, nor my finances would allow me to go to see my family. I knew my little, sister would be very much disappointed. Of course, so was I. I wrote to her that it was a great mistake for me to have gone at all; for it had made Baroda quite intolerable to me. There is an old story of Judas Iscariot, which suited me to the ground. Judas, after betraying Christ, hanged himself and went to Hell where he was honoured with the hottest oven in the whole establishment. Here he must burn for ever and ever; but in his life he had done one kind act and for this they permitted him by special mercy of God to cool himself for an hour every Christmas on an iceberg in the North Pole. Now this had always seemed to me not mercy, but a peculiar refinement of cruelty. For how could Hell fail to be ten times more Hell to the poor wretch after the delicious coolness of his iceberg? (Laughter) I told her that I did not know for what enormous crime I had been condemned to Baroda, but my case was just parallel. Since my pleasant sojourn with her at Baidyanath, Baroda seemed a hundred times more Baroda." (Loud laughter)

"My God, what a lucky sister!"

"On getting such a wonderful letter from her adorable Aurodada, she must have been well consoled and in the seventh heaven!"

"I have an elder brother in Delhi, but he never writes anything like it. His letters are most dry and uninteresting," complained Kriti.

Page 88

With a naughty chuckle Sudeep told Kriti, "Your letters to him also must be such! So it's a game of tit-for-tat!"

"Not at all! I write to him about all these divine talks with our Guru."

"Then the poor fellow has no flair for writing and no imagination, that's all. (Laughter) And moreover, compared to these talks everything else seems insipid." There was a happy air of unanimous agreement amongst all the children present.

"It appears that the Maharaja asked you to look into a lot of his important affairs, even calling you to the palace sometimes for this reason - but he had given strict orders that no one should ever disturb your rest or your sleep."

Sri Aurobindo said, "Yes, he would call me to the palace from time to time, even ask me to write some of his official letters for him. The Maharaja held me in some esteem. With time, my work increased and even those few weeks of respite were sometimes shortened or cancelled."

"Since you hardly knew any Bengali, what language did you speak during your holidays at home?"

"I knew Bengali, but I was not accustomed to speak it. In the beginning, therefore, I spoke English, but a simple, easy English so that everybody there could follow me. English began to be widely studied in Bengal much later. Actually it was amusing for me, for while I spoke to my family and friends in English, they answered me in Bengali. I would advise my sister and my cousins to hurry up and learn English so that they might not find it difficult to follow what I said. Later I learned to speak Bengali from a tutor in Baroda."

"You paid a teacher just to learn to speak Bengali?"

"One cannot learn to speak a language all by oneself, can one? And where in Baroda would I find friends who could speak to me in my mother-tongue? And as matters stood then, my Bengali pronunciation and vocabulary resembled those of British priests and padres, a thing that my eldest uncle did not fail to notice. So there, in Baidyanath I rarely

Page 89

dared to speak in Bengali!" (Laughter)

Sachet said, "The other day Nolinida told us something very interesting about his first darshan of you. He was sent by Barinda to call you to the Maniktola Garden. He was waiting in a room downstairs at Raja Subodh Mullick's house, when you came down, stood near him and gave him an inquiring look. He said in Bengali, 'Barin has sent me. Would it be possible for you to come to the Garden with me now?' You answered very slowly, pausing on each syllable, - it seemed you had not yet got used to speaking Bengali - and said, 'Go and tell Barin, I have not yet had my lunch. It will not be possible to go today.' He did not say a word, did his namaskar and went away." All the children were smiling and so was Sri Aurobindo.

Rohit asked Sri Aurobindo: "How long were you in Baroda?"

"About 13 years."

"Did you work in the State Office all that time?"

"No, certainly not! I would have gone mad if I had! (Laughter) Going through those huge dusty files, checking the accounts and preparing dry official documents - do you think a poet can ever love all this? To cap it all, word would come periodically from the palace, that I should acquaint myself thoroughly with the whole railway time-table of Europe! And apart from the official duties, I was expected to attend the royal functions and gatherings and durbars as well as to whisper sweet flattering phrases in the Maharaja's ear. Well, I had never mastered these arts and gradually I convinced him that I would be much more useful and effective if I worked in the Education Department. So I became a professor in the Baroda College. I started by teaching French. Only later did I teach English."

"French? Why French, in those days?"

"The Maharaja was a liberal-minded and refined scholar.

Page 90

He greatly admired French culture and wished to make it possible for the students from Baroda to pursue their higher studies in France. But, unlike you, those boys did not seem keen about French. Of course, you have the great privilege of studying French with the Mother herself."

"You also taught French to Nolinida and Amritada, didn't you?"

"Who told you that?"

"Everybody knows about it. Not only that, the first books that they read were the works of Racine and Molière!"

Sri Aurobindo replied, "They were already so learned that I could hardly start by teaching them the conjugations of verbs. I believed that once they had learned to love the beauty and sweetness of French literature, they would master the grammatical rules of the language by themselves."

"Didn't you teach English poetry at the Baroda College?" asked Vikas.

"Not just poetry, but English literature in general."

"It appears that the students greatly enjoyed your lectures."

"Lectures?"

"Your classes, that is."

"Oh! Well, that was their affair. I was not so conscientious a professor as Manomohan. I never used to look at the notes and sometimes my explanations did not agree with them at all. I was professor of English and sometimes of French. What was surprising to me was that students used to take down everything verbatim and mug it up. There at Baroda the students besides taking my notes used to get notes of some professor from Bombay, especially if any of them was to be an examiner.

"Once I was giving a lecture on Southey's Life of Nelson. My lecture was not in agreement with the notes. So the students remarked that it was not at all like what was found in the notes. I replied: 'I have not read the notes - in any case they are all rubbish!' I could never go to the minute

Page 91

details. I read and left my mind to do what it could. That is why I could never become a scholar. Up to the age of fifteen I was known as a very promising scholar at St. Paul's. After fifteen I lost that reputation. The teachers used to say that I had become lazy and was deteriorating - because I was reading novels and poetry only; at examination time I used to prepare a little. But now and then when I wrote Latin and Greek verse my teachers used to lament that I was not utilising my remarkable gifts because of my laziness."

"But in Baroda, we are told, you read a lot. Was it then for teaching?" asked Chaitanya.

Sri Aurobindo answered, "In order to be able to-teach better? Oh no. Thank goodness I never had the desire to be a teacher for the rest of my life! To tell you the truth, being a professor was a kind of excuse or an apparent justification for continuing to find time to learn. Actually I founded the rest of my life on those years in Baroda. I not only spent my time there in teaching, I also acquired knowledge of politics as well as, in a small measure, of leading the life of a householder. It was also the period when I began to follow my spiritual discipline."

"Did you then realise what your mission in life was going to be in later years?" asked Rohit.

"Why, have I not told you of my vow to liberate India? But since I had no clear notion then as to the means or the ways of achieving this, I was at first preparing myself."

"In what way?"

"To begin with, I decided that I must know my country - her civilisation and culture, her religion, her literature and her history. Of all these I must have a close and intimate knowledge. To this end, I began to study Sanskrit."

"But is it necessary to know Sanskrit in order to liberate the motherland? Aren't there many leaders who love India yet do not know Sanskrit?"

"What do you call the motherland? A piece of earth? No, she is the fount of your life, she is your mother. It is her love and tenderness which give her children their energy and

Page 92

their dynamism. Sanskrit is the language in which have been expressed all our Scriptures. Our religion and culture are founded on the Vedas and the Upanishads, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, the streams of whose thought and philosophy are flowing through our veins. In spite of the various invasions and calamities that she has undergone down the centuries, India still stands today only because her life is founded on this Culture. Therefore in order to know and understand my country truly I had to study Sanskrit. For unless you know the truth of something, you can never love it completely. I made a very close study of western civilisation and culture, and found it akin to me. But I had till then never had the occasion to come close to what was genuinely mine - my language and my culture. So now I gave myself entirely to this pursuit. It is my knowledge of Sanskrit that has helped me write books like The Secret of the Veda and The Foundations of Indian Culture. I have already described to you my first spiritual experience which I had on disembarking at the Apollo Bunder in Bombay. Perhaps that was the first pointer I received that I ought to plunge myself into the study of our ancient Scriptures."

"But Sanskrit is a very difficult language. Its grammar and syntax are not at all easy to master. Did you find a teacher to help you?" asked Vikas.

"No, not really. Though the grammar is somewhat difficult, the beauty of its sound and rhythm is exceptional.

"While I pursued these studies, I continued writing poetry. Until then I had drawn my inspiration from western, often Greek, sources. But now the literature of my country - the Mahabharata, the dramas of Kalidasa and other Sanskrit masterpieces - opened up new creative possibilities for me. For example. Love and Death, Urvasie, Savitri are all drawn from episodes in the Mahabharata."

"Did you then spend all your time working, reading and writing? Did you never take part in the social life of Baroda?"

"Hardly ever, once I was out of the State Office. I am not

Page 93

the gregarious type. I was much happier with the handful of close friends that I had all through my years in Baroda. Dinen Roy, who helped me with my Bengali, sometimes asked me the same question. I told him that I did not enjoy social life. That is because my way of life and my aims were very different from those of the people around me. This reminds me of my brother Manomohan who used to wonder how I continued to have the same friends, though few in number, year in year out, with no quarrels or arguments. His friendships were always short-lived and had rather dramatic endings." (Laughter)

"But weren't you close to your students?" asked Rahul.

"I was on friendly terms with a few. I was temperamentally rather reserved, somewhat English if you like, but in spite of that I think they liked me. I was the president of their debating society. They always invited me to their functions and festivities. The company of young students and that of the ordinary householders are different. Ramakrishna said that he would always prefer to keep householders at arm's length because their minds were mainly focussed on worldly matters."

"Dinen Roy writes in his book that you were completely indifferent to matters such as food and clothes. But we are not like that. We love to wear fine clothes, and enjoy good food, while meeting friends and chatting with them makes life sweet for us."

Sri Aurobindo said, "Is that so? Well, there is no harm in wearing beautiful clothes so long as you have no attachment for them. We must never forget the aim that we have set before ourselves and that itself will shape the nature and character accordingly. For me it was a little different: my habits and preferences were not like those of most people."

"Money did not mean much to you either, did it? You earned quite a deal of money and yet, by the end of the month, your coffers were empty, so goes the story. But you were never extravagant or wasteful. So how do you explain this state of affairs?" asked Sachet.

Page 94

"I had to keep track of my expenses and accounts in later years, paradoxically, at a time when my life was taking an increasingly spiritual turn. But until then, I was never interested in money nor did I bother about the details of the expenses, provided my daily needs and requirements were satisfied."

"Yes," said Anand, "Nirodda read out to us an account of your life in Baroda, by Mr. Patkar, a student of yours, and later an advocate in Baroda. He says that you were remarkably simple in your mode of living. You never slept on a soft bed as we do, but on a string cot, with a mat on it. When the author asked you why you slept on such a coarse hard bed, you said with your characteristic laugh, 'My boy, don't you know that I am a Brahmachari? Our shastras enjoin that a Brahmachari should not use a soft bed, which may induce him to sleep.' He thought to himself that you must be a great man."

Anand continued, "He also observed your total absence of love for money. You never seemed to care for it. You got a decent salary of Rs.500 a month. You received three months' salary at a time. You took the lump sum and put it in a tray in your room - never bothering to keep it in a safe, under lock and key. You never cared to keep an account. This struck Mr. Patkar, and one day he casually asked you why you kept your money like that. You simply laughed and said, 'It is a proof that we are living amidst honest and good people. "

Sita took up the thread, "He asked you again, 'You never keep any account which may testify to the honesty of the people around you?' Then with a serene face you gave a reply which he remembers even after fifty years, 'It is God who keeps an account for me. He gives me as much as I want and keeps the rest to Himself. At any rate He does not keep me in want; then why should I worry?' "

"And I had so many other things to attend to. Also, I grew progressively more involved with my country's problems. Add to them my own spiritual life. Each problem was

Page 95

complex, and most of them quite urgent. In fact, if I begin telling you about my political activities my stories will resemble the Arabian Nights! And I am not sure whether you children will begin to grasp or even enjoy the twists and turns of politics."

"But we love the Arabian Nights!" said Aditi. "All right, I'll tell you my stories at the right time." "You mustn't omit anything, we want to hear the whole of them. Actually, how was it that you joined politics? We have heard that civil servants could not take part in political activities."

"I know, but still I managed to, rather cleverly. You see, in the beginning I did not openly participate in politics. I began by writing articles. A friend of mine owned a news-paper Induprakash and he requested me to contribute articles to it and I did so, using a pen-name. In those days, our Congress Party was controlled mainly by the Moderates, that is to say, those who were wealthy, well-connected and generally well-respected. They were its leaders. They believed that in order to help our fellow countrymen, we must never displease or annoy our rulers. On the contrary, we should beg favours from them by sending them humble prayers and petitions, that is to say, follow a mendicant policy. I wrote several articles strongly criticising this attitude. They were published under the heading 'New Lamps for Old'. Our leaders, on reading them, were very disturbed. Who is this firebrand? Whose unripe mind has written these articles? They wondered. The great Ranade himself sent for my friend and sternly forbade him to publish any more such writings if he did not wish to be thrown in jail and the paper banned. When he found out that I was the author, a mere twenty-two year old youth, he said to me: 'Look here, young man, you write well but your language is exceedingly sharp and hot. Instead of being so critical of both us and the government, why do you not make a better use of your keen talents? Write constructively. For example, you could give suggestions for improving the lamentable

Page 96

conditions of our jails, or other similar themes of social reform.' What a piece of advice! But indeed I have often been given advice such as this by our Moderate leaders. Some of them used bitter or sarcastic language, others a sweeter turn of phrase - but the intentions were the same. Perhaps the Lord sent me later to prison partly to fulfil Mr. Ranade's good counsel, to acquire a direct knowledge of jails! This was how I was initiated into politics."

"Today, we will enter more fully into a discussion of politics, though I am not sure your innocent minds will really be able to comprehend its complexity and deviousness, particularly since the life in our Ashram is completely cut off from all political activity. Besides, I don't think you are much interested to hear about all that ancient history in detail, especially about the Independence Movement."

"No, no, that's not true. We may not understand everything but we would certainly like to hear it from you. Our teachers have already told us quite a bit about the country and the revolutionary activities that led to its independence. You were one of the leaders of the Revolution."

Sri Aurobindo said, "Oh! You have heard that, have you! But actually, it's not wholly true."

"How's that?"

"Well, I suppose I'll have to start from the beginning.

"When the Induprakash was forbidden to publish my articles and essays, I realised that the country was really led by the Moderates, by men who cared more for their own reputation and happiness than for the motherland. They would have liked to help the latter, but certainly not by jeopardising the former. And so they had no intention of clashing with or revolting against the authorities. They believed that if we Indians behaved like good children, obeying in all matters the kind, well-intentioned British government, then it would surely offer us our independence

Page 97

on a silver platter. Not only were they completely unwilling to sacrifice their own interests, they were also quite capable of hindering the work of any true and idealistic patriot if they found that he came in the way of their personal interests. And they all loved power, so they clung to it with all their might.

"Certain things about my future course of action now became clear to me. First of all, the power must be snatched away from these older people, that is to say, the younger revolutionaries must take over the Congress Party. We must proclaim our aim of complete independence, an aim that was believed to be a dream of fools in those days, since it hardly seemed likely of the great British government to give us our freedom ever to be strong enough to snatch it from them. Hence according to the older Congress members our best policy was to hope for their kindness and condescension to give us some limited powers. This was a clear instance of the slave mentality which characterised the thinking of many of those leaders.

"Secondly, a band of young men had to be trained in secret who could in due course rise up in armed rebellion against the government. Actually, several such groups, inspired by European ideas, were preparing themselves already for a similar armed revolt, particularly in Bengal and in Maharashtra."

"But what' could those small rebellions do against the mighty British Empire?" questioned Anand.

"You know, success was not the only issue. It was also sacrifice, for sacrifice alone can give back to a moribund race its self-respect and confidence. And nothing as great as freedom can be won cheaply. It demands its price of blood. Your arguments sound very similar to those of the older gentlemen of those days. Many others too thought like them, not only because they were afraid, but also because they lacked any real knowledge either of politics or of warfare. Perhaps your error stems from the fact that you are judging .the situation of the time by today's standards of

Page 98

political and military power. In those days no nation on earth had the military armaments or organisation one commonly finds today. The gun, not even the cannon, was the chief weapon, and aeroplanes did not yet exist. Just think how vast India is! And this land was ruled from thousands of miles away by a nation that was a tiny fraction of its size. A handful of British officers and a few thousand soldiers - mostly Indians - kept our country under its yoke. One may say that Indian soldiers and Indian officials kept the country subject to the foreigner, a situation that has no parallel in the history of the world. Have you heard of the attack on the Chittagong Armoury? If only a few ill-equipped youths could cut off the city of Chittagong from the rest of the country, what could not have been possible if the whole country had possessed an organised network of rebels, all trained in guerilla warfare? Our huge country is an ideal setting for this type of warfare which Shivaji and the Marathas had used with so much success, attacking and destroying the government's forces with silent, deadly stealth."

"But what about the repercussions? Wouldn't the government retaliate with renewed oppression?"

"That was just what was required, the excessive cruelty which alone would shake a slavish nation out of its passivity and torpor. It could also help to bind the country together. The belief held by our educated elite about British magnanimity and kindness would be dispelled, and even the Indian armed forces would be roused to rebellion. Another thing that our leaders had insufficient knowledge of was the English character and its politics. The British government, though it was imperialist, was quite different from Germany or Japan. Its politics had always been quite sharp and subtle while its practical sense recognised the fact that there are times when mutual agreement and compromise are necessary. Once it realised that the colonies would no longer accept the yoke of oppression and injustice at any cost, it would try to find a solution for getting out of the impasse

Page 99

with a minimum loss of self-respect. The British don't usually kick you out of their house, they prefer to show you the door, though sometimes of course they may throw you out by the scruff of your neck. (Laughter) There have been Indians who felt elated at the news of Hitler's victories and some would have even welcomed Japan into our homeland, but they forgot the cruelty and inhumanity those nations are capable of. What Hitler did to Europe would have happened to India if he had ever taken over our country."

"But Japan is Asiatic, she is one of us. Many believe that if Japan had come to India, she would have helped us to win our freedom and to become a strong nation - after whichshe would have left."

"Oh! is that so? What an infantile notion! Do you not know the age-old dream of the Nippon Sun never setting over the whole of Asia? If Japan had once managed to get a foothold in India, no force on earth, neither the I.N.A. nor Gandhi's Non-cooperation Movement could have succeeded in throwing her out. In comparison the British are infinitely milder. You saw how, having offered us our freedom, they slipped out of our country more or less quietly. It is extremely rare in the history of the world for a nation to win its freedom without bloodshed. Their behaviour tallied exactly with the conclusions I had drawn when I had made an analysis of their character during my stay in England."

"But today ours is a partitioned freedom with its terrible aftermath of bloodshed...."

"Ah! But we ourselves are responsible for that mistake. Anyway, let's shelve these discussions for the present and come back to our story. So there I was in Baroda. The next step in my political plan was to get a young man named Jatin Banerjee to join the Maharaja's army so that he might receive a military training."

"But why in Baroda?"

"Because the Maharaja was a patriotic man and quite independent-minded. Also because the British government refused to accept Bengalis into the military on the excuse

Page 100

that the Bengali race was not a martial one. The truth of the matter was that it did not trust Bengalis. Later when Jatin had finished his training, I sent him back to Bengal as my representative. By then, very many centres of physical training had sprung up all over the state where boys learned wrestling and boxing and other combative sports. These centres and clubs taught them not only how to strengthen their bodies but also how to ride and shoot. I wished at the same time to inculcate in them a spirit of oneness as well as to awaken the spirit of revolt. The young men were very receptive to these new ideas and the clubs multiplied very fast indeed.

"In the meantime I too joined the revolutionaries of western India. I was sworn into the Party. When I went to Bengal I met P. Mitra and a number of other leaders to whom I spoke about this revolutionary society. Many of them decided to take the oath that would make them its members. Another of my aims was to unite the various centres and associations fighting for our freedom into one single body. In that I did not succeed. But even this failure helped our cause, one may say, for all these small separate groups were very dynamic and the revolutionary ideals spread far and wide. My brother Barin whom I had already initiated into the Movement now became one of its most active workers. These young rebels gave the country the fire and force which were so evident just after the partition of Bengal, and it was they who were the core around which grew the Extremist Party, a Party that rose up as a direct challenge to the Moderates."

"But how did you manage to do two things at once - your job and your revolutionary activities?" asked Rohit, rather puzzled.

Sri Aurobindo replied, "The revolutionary in me continued with these secret activities while the professor diligently taught his students - what was so difficult about that? .No one outside our organisation knew about us and our aims and then, when the work required me to go to

Page 101

Bengal, I would ask for special leave of absence and go there."

"We have heard that you even got married?"

"Why is that so incredible?" Sri Aurobindo laughed. "Many people find it hard to believe, because they are convinced that I was a Yogi from birth!"

"But isn't marriage a hindrance to one who has sworn to free his motherland?"

"Why should that be so? Most of the Swadeshi leaders were married and were heads sometimes of large families. For example, the father of your Tejenda was a great nationalist leader. Did his marriage come in the way of the sacrifice he made for his country?

"Since you have raised the topic of marriage, let me tell you a story. When I was to get married, the Brahmins asked me to shave my head, but I refused to do so. In fact I was unwilling to perform any rite whatever that they asked me to perform. You know, don't you, that orthodox Hindus were expected to do penance when they returned home after leaving the shores of India, particularly if they had visited Europe. When I refused everything the poor Pandits told me - 'Well, then, give us some money and we will perform all your penances for you!' (Laughter)

"One fine morning after my marriage, my brother Barin unexpectedly appeared on our doorstep. His dirty unshaved face and filthy clothes reminded me of an escaped convict. 'Straight into the bathroom,' I told him. 'Wash yourself and get into something clean before we sit down to talk.' He did this readily. After his matriculation, Barin had been staying in Patna with our brother Manomohan where he had set up a tea-shop. Since he was no good as a businessman, his venture had failed and here he was! It was at this time that he started getting interested in spiritualism and began reading a great deal about what happens to the soul after the body dies. His curiosity about this occult question grew and, seeking to experiment with these phenomena, he began to practise the planchette and automatic writing. I too would

Page 102

sometimes join him in these sessions. Some of the results were truly startling."

"Yesterday I mentioned the planchette and automatic writing, didn't I? In Baroda, we practised automatic writing a good deal. A few of us would sit around a table, silently. One person would be the medium. He would hold a pen and have a piece of paper before him. He would write a question and then everybody would wait for the answer, without speaking, seeking to still even the movements of the mind through concentration. In due course, a spirit would come and it was as if it held the medium's hand while it wrote just as your mothers did when they taught you to form your letters. The medium had to surrender himself completely, letting the spirit guide him. At some of those sessions, Barin would ask to be the medium. Once he decided to call our father's spirit. Father had always loved him very dearly. During all the years that we had been away in England, he was the only son, the youngest, who had been with Father, the recipient of all his paternal affection.

"So that day, we sat there wondering, waiting for his spirit to come to us. All of a sudden Barin's pen began to move on the paper, and the spirit introduced itself. But Barin remained sceptical; he demanded further proof before believing that it was indeed our father. So the spirit reminded my brother of a gold watch which Father had once given him, a fact that Barin had quite forgotten. This proof so excited him that he began to make more demands on the spirit. One of the most amusing messages he received was the information that if he looked carefully on the walls of the house of an engineer called Deodhar, he would find the drawing of a monkey. Deodhar happened to be present at the time and he denied the fact. The spirit then requested Deodhar to investigate the matter which he did later by asking his mother. She replied that indeed there was such a

Page 103

drawing but that it was now hidden by a coat of plaster and whitewash."

"Fantastic! How did your father's spirit know about that?" asked Anirban.

"I'll tell you. But first listen to even more fantastic stories. The spirit made two prophecies about the future, both of which later came true to the letter. The first one was about Lord Curzon. At that time it was he who had suggested partitioning Bengal, creating acute and widespread discontent; all over the state people were criticising and opposing the implementation of the idea. It was at that point that the spirit informed us that Curzon would soon leave India, although at the time there was absolutely no question of his resigning or being pushed out of his position. The spirit told us that it had seen Curzon trying to gaze at the other side of the blue sea, and that is why it was sure he would go. In fact, Curzon was indeed forced to leave unexpectedly, though somewhat later."

"This is unbelievable! How could the spirit prophesy something that did not seem even remotely possible at the time?" asked Mandakini.

"But that is the very nature of prophecy. Often the present gives us no inkling of what is to come. I have told you, haven't I, that whatever happens here has already taken place in an invisible world, sometimes much earlier. It only takes time to materialise on our earth, that's all. Those who can contact this invisible world do not find it difficult to know about its events and activities. But that does not mean that everything they see there will be realised here in our physical world, or even that they should be able to predict when it will manifest itself, if it does do so. You must have heard that the Mother had known about India's freedom as far back as 1915. She had then seen a vision of innumerable people, gleefully running with their arms raised and chanting, 'We are free! We are free!' Yet it took India so many years to become politically independent. But your rational Science does not believe in occultism - that is because

Page 104

Science is still so undeveloped and immature.

"When somebody asked the spirit about Tilak and what sort of a man he was, it replied: 'When all that you have striven for will seem lost and ruined and your erstwhile friends have turned their backs on you or betrayed you, then this man alone will stand by you, holding his head high.' This prophecy too proved to be absolutely true. In the annals of our Revolutionary Movement Tilak's name indeed shines most brightly."

The youthful audience looked at one another in silent questioning puzzlement at all these strange revelations. Sri Aurobindo continued:

"Whether the spirit was my father's or someone else's, it certainly was an exceptional one. All spirits do not know so much, neither are their revelations so effective. The other spirit that we called was supposed to be that of Sri Ramakrishna, which commanded us, 'Build a temple.' Just that, nothing but those words. At that time we were in fact planning to build a temple to the Goddess Bhavani. So we immediately concluded that the plan met with his approval. But, in fact, he wanted us to raise a temple to the Mother within us, not just build a stone edifice. I realised this only much later through an experience which finally made me turn to Yoga."

"So there is some truth in these things?"

"Of course there is some truth, but a great deal of falsehood and error is mixed up with it - it is indeed quite a mixture. Oh, yes! I forgot to mention a detail. What Barin wrote was beautifully worded in excellent English, an English which should normally be beyond the reach of one who had studied only up to matriculation."

"But how are such things possible? Is it the souls of these great beings who help in automatic writing?"

"Souls? Certainly not, because souls do not linger so many years in the earth-atmosphere. Actually those early experiments with occultism roused my interest sufficiently for me to try them again later, both in Calcutta and

Page 105

Pondicherry. But my experiences never revealed any profound or fundamental truths, which is why I gave up dabbling in them. The human entity goes through many transitions after death, and it would be an unacceptable oversimplification to call it a 'soul'. We ordinarily believe that man has a body and a soul, and that after death the soul goes either to heaven, to hell or takes up another body. But very many events intervene before these things happen. Besides his physical body, man has several subtle bodies or sheaths about which most people are ignorant. And in the subtle worlds, there are innumerable separate entities, small and big, good and bad. In short, even when the soul has returned to its own world after the death of the physical body, the subtle sheaths may be taken hold of by subtle beings of the supra-physical planes, who may pass under the old names. It is rare for the being to return clothed in its own sheaths which it had cast off earlier. The phenomenon that occurs in automatic writing does not concern merely these subtle sheaths of human beings. In some cases its source or inspiration is directly from beings of various non-physical though usually not very elevated planes. Most often they are part of the play of the writer's subliminal consciousness. You surely know that our ordinary external consciousness is not the only one we possess, for behind it is a vast and deep world of consciousness - which is why it is called the subliminal. What our conscious minds do not know is often known to this inner consciousness, a knowledge which extends even to the future. If you can take hold of a pure strand of this hidden consciousness, then your writing may reveal the past, present or future. But remember, the strand must be pure - something that is not easy to get, which is why this sort of writing is often of little value. But it is also an error to pass it off as dramatic imagination. I myself experimented with automatic writing once, in the process of which I managed to write a whole book called Yogic Sadhan. Whenever I sat down to write the book, I would see the spirit-form of Rammohan Roy

Page 106

standing beside me. When I would finish for the day, it would disappear. I have called the author of the book 'Uttara Yogi' or 'Yogi from the North'. Do you know why?"

"No!"

"There is a mystery shrouding the name. There used to be, in South India, a great Yogi. When it was time for him to leave his body he told his disciples that an integral Yogi would come from the North. This Purna Yogi would be recognised by three characteristics. One of the wealthy disciples of that Yogi found those characteristics in me. And it was he who bore all the expenses of publishing Yogic Sadhan.״

"We've heard that you have experimented with automatic speaking too!"

"Who has told you that?"

"We learned from Nolinida's Reminiscences," answered Sachet.

"What does he say?"

"It took place somewhere in 1908 or 1909, in Shyampukur, at the Karmayogin office. He says that at about eight o'clock in the evening they would take their seats around you. The lights were put out and all was silent. They kept still for a while. Then slowly there came a voice from you. It was clearly not your own voice, there were many voices each of a different character and tone. The voice itself would say who it was. Some of them he remembers very well. Once it was Bankim who said many fine things about education. Another day it was Danton who announced himself in a terrible voice, 'I am Danton! Terror! Red Terror!' He went on discoursing on the need and utility of all that bloodshed of the French Revolution. Another who came introduced himself thus, 'I am Theramenes.' He gave them a lesson in political matters. So many others came like this, day after day, and taught them many things on various subjects."

Sri Aurobindo sat listening and gently smiling.

"That would be fun!" burst out Chaitanya. "Fun indeed

Page 107

to learn all the subjects without having to study all those dry books!" (Laughter)

"But the Mother says all this spirit stuff can be quite dangerous. She doesn't like us to play about with them," added Sachet.

"That's true. What has she said? Do you know?" asked Sri Aurobindo.

"She has recounted a very strange incident which took place when she was in France. It's the case of a man who, through practices of this kind, had put himself into contact with a vital entity. This man happened to be a gambler and he spent his time speculating on the Stock Exchange and playing roulette. This 'spirit' used to tell him, 'Bid on this number or this place', and he would win. Naturally he just worshipped this 'spirit' which made him colossally rich. He used to boast to all his friends about the method by which he had grown rich.

"Someone put him on his guard, told him, 'Be careful, this doesn't look very honest, you should not trust this spirit.' He fell out with that person. One day the spirit told him, 'Stake everything, everything you have on this....' He did and at a single stroke lost everything! And yet, he still had some money left from his Stock Exchange speculations. He said to himself, 'It is bad luck.' Again he received a very precise indication, 'Do this', as usual. And he did it - he was completely cleaned out! And to finish the job, the spirit told him, just for the fun of it, 'Now, you are going to commit suicide. Put a bullet through your head.' And he was so much under its influence, he did so.... That's the end of the story."

Sri Aurobindo listened without a word, smiling. Then he said:

"Nowdays one hears of a different brand of automatic writing which seems to have created modern literature. It is called Surrealism, and your Nirodda is supposed to be an expert on the subject. He can tell you a great deal about it." (Laughter)

Page 108

"Indeed he admits to having written several poems in this manner, poems which he himself did not understand at all. But he tells us that you explained them to him since they were inspired by you. Is that so?"

"Is that so hard to believe? Well, it happens to be absolutely true. But this has nothing to do with spirits. These poems have their origin in the hidden consciousness I have already spoken to you of. One also calls it dream-consciousness, though it does not closely resemble it."

"Oh! May I ask you something?" said Rinku. "Recently I saw a rather strange dream. It was about a friend of mine who had died. The face and form were his, but he looked much darker, and his clothes were very dirty. His hair looked clumsily combed, straight down towards his forehead and eyes. In spite of his condition, I felt terribly happy to see him, but he, surprisingly enough, hardly looked at me. I ran to put my arms round him but felt unnerved and uneasy. This gave me a sensation of discomfort, almost of feverishness, which remained with me the whole day."

"I understand. This was not your friend. Clearly, it was a being from the vital world, the kind of being we were talking about earlier. Very probably it had worn one of the subtle sheaths belonging to your friend - and certainly it intended to do you harm. These beings enjoy having fun at our expense, to make fools of us. It was your attachment to your friend that helped it to approach you.

"Gradually you will get to know more about these beings and the planes they come from. They can put on various appearances to disturb you. Among their most cunning and deadly games is to disguise themselves as the Mother or myself and present themselves before a sadhak."

"Yes, we have heard about how one of them tried to fool even Nolinida. It came to him wearing your shape, and asked him to bow before it. When Nolinida was about to do so, he noticed that the feet were turned backwards, a traditional sign of devils! Instantly the form disappeared."

Page 109

While he was speaking, Rahul fixed his gaze on Sri Aurobindo's feet and was surprised to find them looking so soft and delicate.

Sri Aurobindo laughed and said, "There are innumerable mysteries of this kind. Voices and visions, both good and bad, frequently come to one who is advancing on the path of Yoga - experiences which Science cannot explain. But our discussion of spirits has taken us quite far away from our original subject - automatic writing. Before I finish with this kind of writing, let me tell you about another thing which too is automatic or, rather, utterly spontaneous - an automatic living.

"This happens when life moves like a river, freely following its own intrinsic rhythm, not guided by thought and logic - and yet all that one does or says is always the right thing, simply and naturally. It may be described as never being out of step. This is the result of the psychic transformation, which in our Sadhana is the first of a series of transformations.

"So you see, after beginning with political revolutions, we moved past literary revolutions and now we have reached the spiritual revolution."

This last term seemed to puzzle the audience. Sri Aurobindo took up the point:

"The ordinary man stumbles along the path of his life, isn't that so? Intelligence, logic, thought, feeling and imagination help him on his way. Without them he cannot move forward an inch, and yet they are not at all infallible. This is the reason why his life is soon filled with grief and pain and hopelessness. Now, supposing I show you how to live a life like the one I have just described, isn't that being revolutionary? Only, this time it would be an inner revolution. One would need weapons but they would be used to fight the enemies within us. You follow?

"Similarly when I spoke of the literary revolution, I meant a quick change, whether by violent or non-violent means. When I, said that poetry was created by a conscious pen, that the mind behind it was totally silent and motionless - and

Page 110

that this was universally accepted as the essential mode of writing poetry, wouldn't you call this a literary revolution? Any one of you may one day find himself turned into a poet."

"Rohit is like that. You have only to ask him once and he will write a poem for you." (Laughter)

"Where was I before we digressed?"

"You were telling us about the innumerable physical training clubs that sprang up in Bengal. Their avowed intention was to improve the health and strength of the youth though they were really formed to awaken in the young a deep love for the motherland. It was for her liberation that they were training and preparing themselves."

"Oh yes! I think I told you that even before I joined the Swadeshi Movement, leaders like barrister P. Mitra and Sarala Ghoshal had started several such clubs in Calcutta - all with a secret political purpose. They had even envisaged armed rebellion, drawing their inspiration from the Japanese leader Okakura. After I realised that both their ways and their aims were similar to ours, I sent Jatin Banerjee to meet Mitra. Later when I went to Calcutta, Jatin introduced Mitra to me and the latter too took the revolutionary oath. I also met Hemchandra Das who worked for a secret society, that had been formed in Midnapur. Das was wealthy and it was on his extensive property that the young men perfected their rifle-shooting skills. The idea of establishing these secret societies was not new in Bengal. Even my maternal grandfather Rajnarayan Bose had founded a society of which Rabindranath Tagore too had been a member for some time. But though they had great dreams and aspirations, they lacked the strength to realise them. For that, young men were needed, young men strong in body and mind, who would fulfil these hopes and aspirations. Within a short time, this revolutionary mentality became so widespread and intense that even some Indian government officials grew sympathetic

Page 111

to it, and sometimes they openly expressed their views."

"But is it true that these young men took the oath by holding the Gita in one hand and a sword in the other? Are such things really necessary?"

"The sword symbolised military revolt, the Gita was the symbol of the Spirit. Rebellion can move on many lines and use various means. For instance, in the French or the Russian Revolutions there was no place for either Religion or Spirituality. But the moment I realised that my country was not merely a mass of earth and rivers and trees, that it had a consciousness, a life, a soul of its own, it became for me the living embodiment of the Divine Mother. She was not only to be loved but also to be worshipped with devotion. Her worshipper must surrender his all, sacrifice himself at the feet of this divinity. She demanded total, disinterested, selfless service, a service that did not ask for any fruit, not even for success - exactly the way it is described in the Gita; and so the Gita became the symbol of the spiritual attitude and aim that were expected of the young revolutionaries. Those who wished to work for the liberation of their country would take this vow of selflessness, sacrifice and total secrecy."

"Outwardly what kind of work did you do?"

"Our aim was to establish as many centres of training as possible, first in Calcutta, then later in the district towns and even in the villages. These centres were not only for physical culture and body-building, but were also meant to train young men to swim, to ride and to handle weapons. Ostensibly, that was all that was done there, but the real purpose was to select a few fit young men out of the many who attended those clubs and secretly build a group of dynamic young revolutionaries, adept in all the activities that a revolution demands. They would have to stockpile a lot of weapons, also have to learn to make bombs. To these ends, if necessary they might even have to go abroad, and some of them did so. Sister Nivedita helped these young

Page 112

men, and some went to Jagadish Bose who instructed them in the art of making bombs. An important activity of some of the leaders was to select and recruit new members for this rebel group. Thus in quite a short while the Revolutionary Movement grew strong and became widespread."

"Didn't the British authorities guess what was happening?"

"No! Not at all! On the contrary, they were quite pleased that the young Indians were so preoccupied with physical culture, instead of politics. Only much later, when the bombs began to explode, did their eyes open!"

"The government was convinced that you were the leader of this secret society. Barinda too has written something to this effect."

"So I have heard, but it wasn't quite true. In fact, I was only the nominal leader, but it was Barin, Mitra and the two Jatins who were actively in the forefront, and the decisions were usually taken by them. Only if they found themselves in difficult or dangerous situations did they consult me, otherwise I was only informed of the results of their actions, Of course, at that time I was living in Baroda and visited Calcutta only now and then, and so it was hardly possible for them to consult me regularly. Anyway I did not believe it was necessary. Once someone had been elected leader, he was expected to bear the sole responsibility for his decisions and his actions. But, unhappily, in a little while there began to appear signs of disharmony and discord among these leaders. This is a typically Bengali characteristic. The Bengali lacks patience and perseverance and is often incapable of working harmoniously with others. The first cracks in our team showed in the form of quarrels and disputes between the group led by Barin and the one which Jatin Banerjee led. Jatin was accused of being tyrannical and domineering, a very strict military disciplinarian, something that many of the young men refused to stand for. It was rather ironical that earlier I had especially sent Barin to Calcutta in order to assist Jatin in his work. When the

Page 113

quarrel reached a climax - what looked like a point of no return - I found that I would have to go to Calcutta myself in order to set matters right. After listening to both the parties, we decided to set up a committee of five members, among whom were Jatin, P. Mitra and Nivedita. This solution seemed to work for a while, but soon after my return to Baroda it broke down as I had feared it might. I did not intervene in their disputes any more. I never liked quarrels of any kind."

"So you knew Sister Nivedita in those days?" asked Mandakini.

"Knew her? Of course I did. Didn't I tell you that she had visited Baroda earlier and we had met? Now to come back to the story of our Swadeshi Movement. I visited Midnapur with Jatin and Barin to found there a revolutionary centre. Hemchandra Das joined it as a member, taking the vow. His father was very wealthy. He was one of those who later went abroad to learn how to make bombs.

"The main duty of these leaders was to strengthen the Movement by gathering young men as well as weapons, and to spread it into the villages, into the very heart of the countryside. Later, when I met Jatin Mukherjee, he too joined in the work of spreading the Movement in many directions. He was indeed a true leader. I think I have already spoken to you about him. His noble spirit and his lofty thoughts matched his tall strong physique. The vanity of name or fame or pride cast no shadow on him; in him there was no ambition or lust for power, nor the slightest trace of fear. He loved his motherland with all his being. It was he who in every situation would turn to me for counsel, who would obey my instructions unquestioningly. Nivedita on the one hand, Jatin on the other - these were the two real leaders of our secret society. But I seldom used to meet Nivedita, it was Jatin to whom I was close. Barin had the necessary ardour and enthusiasm, he could inspire the youth with his words, but unfortunately the pride of leadership was prominent in his nature. When he began editing the paper

Page 114

Yugantar in which he openly advocated revolution, it sent shock-waves through the nation. My articles too were published in that paper."

"Please tell us something about Sister Nivedita."

"Why? Don't you know anything about her?"

"Yes, we do, but not much, especially her contribution to the Independence Movement. We only know that she worked with you and wrote for your paper and that when you left Bengal you transferred your political responsibilities to her. But we would like to know how, being a westerner herself, she learned to love India so deeply, and how you met her in the first place."

"Oh! that's a long story, though you yourselves have answered a part of your question. Since both she and I loved India deeply, we had this love in common and that is how we met."

"But how could she love India as much? And if she was Swami Vivekananda's follower, how is it that she left the path of religion and spirituality to join revolutionary politics?"

"Is that what is bothering you? Don't you know how deeply Vivekananda loved his motherland and what agony it was for him to see her bound and enslaved? Though he was an ascetic, a Sannyasi, he was constantly preoccupied with ways and means of liberating her. It is even said that he considered using armed rebellion. His travels in the West had served to sharpen the pain and that is why he charged his disciple to do the work he had not openly taken up. She, a true and fit disciple, gladly and enthusiastically accepted this work for the nation, since such was the will of her Master. This was the root cause of her participation in the Freedom Movement. Haven't I told you that very many sadhaks, spiritually realised men, joined our Party, that many of them were actively working for the liberation of the country? The armed rebellion by Sannyasis described by Bankim in his Anandamath was not wholly imaginary."

"How exactly did you meet Nivedita?" asked Pooja.

Page 115

"She already knew me as a revolutionary; 'a worshipper of Shakti', was the term she used. That is, perhaps, why she came to Baroda to meet me. Also, to draw the Maharaja into the Revolutionary Movement. That she was part of the Movement I knew, and therefore somewhat guessed the reason for her visit to Baroda. Anyway, a friend and I went to the station to receive her. As we drove back through the city, her comments about some of the buildings lining the streets made my friend think that she was slightly touched in the head. Of course he was mistaken, for there was nothing wrong with her understanding, only it expressed itself rather , extravagantly. He did not like her preference for superlatives and his knowledge of architecture was also of the slightest. Nivedita, on the contrary, was very aesthetically perceptive and she had a deep knowledge of Art."

"What was it she said?" enquired Sudeep.

"Well, on seeing a dharamshala, a pilgrims' rest-house, she exclaimed: 'How lovely!' But when she saw the College building she cried out: 'Oh! how dreadful!' (Laughter) This made my friend believe that she was definitely not quite balanced. Then she turned to me and asked me outright - 'Mr. Ghose, are you a worshipper of Shakti?' - that is to say, a revolutionary. After prolonged discussions she finally asked me to go and work in Bengal. I told her that I did not think the time had come for that. I was preparing myself inwardly and would jump into the fray when the right moment arrived. So, before leaving, she told me - 'We shall be waiting for you. And I want you to know that I am on your side.' That is how we began our acquaintance. She met the Maharaja and openly asked him to join revolutionary politics. She was always extremely frank and outspoken and wherever she went she advocated revolution in the most clear and unmistakable language. If you looked at her eyes, you could see the person within - a burning flame! When she spoke of revolution, her entire soul came to the forefront."

"Didn't she fear the government?"

"Fear? She didn't even know what the word meant! Also,

Page 116

the government treated her with quite a bit of consideration since she had many powerful and influential friends in government circles, both in England and in India. She was Irish by birth and it was natural for her not to be on the side of the English. The Irish had been fighting against British rule for a great many years already and Nivedita had been one of them. That is why she could share our pain and be so Sympathetic to our cause."

"What actually was her role in the Movement?"

"First, to tour the country and spread the message of revolt among the educated classes. Second, to initiate the great and the small, even the Rajas and Maharajas into the Cause. Her western background and her education made her most suitable for this work. She would mix freely with the young revolutionaries, help them in their need by providing them with money or shelter or even weapons. She sent some young men abroad so that they might learn how to make bombs! She helped in so many ways! Her contribution to the success of the Swadeshi Movement is invaluable."

"Did she then completely give up yogic practice?"

"What do you understand by the term 'yogic practice'? If she considered the liberation of India to be the aim of her existence, then that was her Yoga. Is Yoga then merely sitting down at regular intervals to chant and pray and meditate, leaving the rest of life a blank? That notion belongs to older ways of thought that believe spirituality must be other-worldly, evading life. But from the day Nivedita's Guru instructed her to work for the cause of India's freedom, that cause became her Yoga and her Sadhana. She obeyed her Master with all her heart and soul."

"What did she feel about the violent methods adopted by many revolutionaries - the robberies and assassinations of white people? Did she approve of them?" asked Jones.

"Could a person like her ever approve of such methods? But she was obliged to admit that they were sometimes necessary. Truly speaking, our aims were always far above these narrow limited means. I have already explained to you

Page 117

that we wanted the entire nation to rise up in armed revolt. When that failed and the great leaders were flung into jails, Nivedita was said to be heart-broken."

"But why did the government not imprison her too?"

"Haven't I told you that she had very influential friends? Naturally the government didn't dare touch her. All the same, there seems to have been some talk of her arrest and those same friends sent her to England for a while. When I came out of prison and resumed publication of the Karmayogin, she began contributing articles to that paper. Some time later, she heard that I might be rearrested and immediately advised me to write 'An Open Letter to My Countrymen'. When Ramchandra Majumdar brought the information of my imminent arrest, I received the command, the adesh, to go to Chandernagore. The same night I left Calcutta, leaving Nivedita in charge of the Karmayogin. That, in short, was my relationship with her. But I have described to you only one side of her nature. She had a profound knowledge and refined perception of India's art and literature, religion and philosophy. She also realised the need to educate our women. She knew and had exchanges with all the great minds of the age - Rabindranath, Jagadish Bose, Abanindranath, Tilak, all of them. It was largely due to her that Jagadish Bose received international scientific acclaim. It was she who helped Abanindranath awaken his artistic consciousness. In any case, it is clear that every Indian will be indebted to her forever. You should all read her books - The Web of Indian Life, The Cradle-Tales of Hinduism, Kali the Mother and The Master as I Saw Him."

"Did she have any spiritual realisations?" asked Amal.

"She must have had, but we never discussed them. We were busy with politics and revolution. But looking at her eyes one could say that she could easily enter into the states of meditation and trance."

"Why was she obliged to leave the Ramakrishna Mission?" ,

"Because of her work in the Swadeshi Movement. The Ramakrishna Mission was after all a cloister, a home for

Page 118

ascetics. Religion was its chief preoccupation and it believed also in social service in the outer life. To live within its precincts and take part in politics was against its rules, as it is in our Ashram too. We here may be interested in politics but we are forbidden to take part in it. Why? Because we would be deviating from the main purpose of our life here. Secondly, participating in politics would result in government intervention, even its wrath perhaps, and endanger the very existence of the community. In the same way, Nivedita, ardent disciple of Vivekananda though she was, was obliged to leave the Mission that had been established by him. Such was her obedience to his injunctions."

"It is strange that in spite of being a woman, she took such an active part in the Revolution," remarked Smita.

"Why should it seem strange? The world has known several such women. Jeanne d'Arc was one such example, indeed a shining one. Haven't you read about her? And the history of the French Revolution? And in the history of our own country, there have been innumerable fearless, warlike women, like the Rani of Jhansi. Again, so many women took part in the Irish Revolution, fought and suffered and even underwent torture. Just the other day, during the upheavals in Bengal, what did the women there not undergo? So you see, there is nothing to be surprised at in women being brave and warlike. In fact, it would be strange if it were not so.

"In the first place Vivekananda had brought Nivedita to India so that she might teach the women of his land to awaken and to arise. It is difficult for you to imagine today the backwardness of the Indian women of that time. Nivedita not only brought awareness to them, she energetically shook the whole sleeping India awake, explaining to her that she could never make any advance or progress unless she became free. What we should wish for is that instead of just one Sister Nivedita a Nivedita be born in every Indian household."

Page 119

"Last time I spoke to you about the Swadeshi Revolution, but it was not much," said Sri Aurobindo. "Of course, it is almost impossible to discuss it at length, since this sort of activity is always carried on in secret and so no one group or even individual quite knows what the others are doing. Only the leaders and their close helpers are in touch with all the members. In fact the success of a revolution depends on secrecy, that is to say, on one's ability to keep decisions secret. Therefore those who take part in it are selected for their capacity to keep silent in all circumstances and not to divulge any information 'even in the cannon's mouth'. Nothing should shake them, neither temptation nor torture. However, I have also told you that as the Party grew larger and stronger, so did factionalism and rivalry increase among the leaders. I prepared a band of workers and returned to Baroda, but immediately the group broke up. I realised then that what we needed, first and foremost, were true and sincere human beings, without whom nothing great could ever be achieved. But even when the group split up, the work continued unhindered since the leaders, finding themselves free, were fired with greater zeal. On all sides were established new branches and groups of the Revolutionary Movement, the youth of the nation was shaken wide awake. Barin was unequalled in his ability to recruit men. He had the art of speech, discourse and argumentation that could set aflame his listeners, instilling in them great self-confidence. His words could turn meek lambs into lions overnight, though of course, now and then, there were a few who turned out to be sheep in lion's clothing!" (Laughter)*

"Wasn't it you who gave him his initiation?"

"Yes, it was I. That was the time when the British government decided upon the perverse plan of partitioning Bengal. I then told the leaders of the Movement that this was our golden opportunity. The wicked partition must be resolutely resisted. The more the people would grow dissatisfied with the government, the greater the advantage for the revolutionaries. And that is just what happened. The

Page 120

youth of the land continued to be inducted secretly into the Movement, the revolutionary spirit was inculcated into them, culminating in their training in armed combat. On the other hand, the journal Yugantar openly published articles that aroused in the masses the demand for total freedom by whatever means possible, even by violence if necessary. Freedom would never be ours if we relied on the British to give it to us. You see, our plan of armed revolution could only be successful if it was carried on the wave of the people's patriotism and their devotion to the motherland. No political movement can ever be effective unless it has the support and sympathy of the people in general, particularly if it is a subject people. Therefore the partitioning of Bengal at that exact juncture helped us enormously.

"The opposition to it lit a flame that soon spread to the rest of India. Bengal in an instant seemed to have found her true self. Thousands of voices echoed Bankim's mantra of 'Bande Mataram' from the pages of his book Anandamath. In street after street, in meetings and processions, the Mother's worshippers cried out 'Bande Mataram'. The furious government tightened its laws; in East Bengal, with its Muslim majority, the cry of 'Bande Mataram' was forbidden, and taking part in revolutionary meetings or movements proclaimed illegal. This was the time of the famous Barisal Session of the Congress which was attended by all the great national leaders. Since it was held during my holidays, I too went there. Though the law forbidding the cry of 'Bande Mataram' had already been promulgated in the town, the young men had no intention of obeying it, and so the police came charging into the meeting, breaking it up with their sticks and staves. There was a boy, I remember, a youngster not much older than you, named Chitta, who would not stop chanting 'Bande Mataram' even though blows rained down on him. It was inhuman. Some of us leaders were there in the very front, facing the police onslaught. The Barisal Session will remain unforgettable in the history of the Revolutionary Movement of India. It is

Page 121

hard today for you, to imagine how repressive the government was, and how determined we were to fight against it. The British had even coined a phrase - 'the insolent Barisal look'!

"And how successful we were! What had taken long years of effort to achieve was now hastened by those very repressive measures of the British government. All the revolutionaries, the Radicals as well as the Moderates, now realised what to expect of this government, which some of them had held in such high esteem. The Swadeshi Movement brought about many changes in our country and its society, particularly in the field of education. Centres of national education were established in Bengal and I was made the principal of the first college of this kind - the National College. I had been waiting for just such an opportunity for a long time. Immediately I resigned from the service of the Maharaja of Baroda and moved to Calcutta to take charge of this College. By now my responsibilities had grown really heavy, for I continued the revolutionary activities along with my work in education as well as in politics. Gradually, of course, it was politics that began to occupy more and more of my time and attention while the revolutionary work was passed on to Barin and some other leaders. My first contribution to the political change was to write articles in the Bande Mataram paper. Bepin Pal, who had just founded the journal, was very happy that I accepted his request to collaborate. In the meantime, the government accused the paper Yugantar of publishing seditious articles, but it could not discover the name of the editor against whom to file its charges. Vivekananda's brother appeared before the court on behalf of the paper. At my instigation he announced that since this court was subject to a foreign government, he would not obey its laws nor accept its judgment in any form or degree whatsoever. Of course, he was punished for this, but the influence and prestige of the paper was considerably enhanced.

Page 122

This was the first instance where punishment was meted out for having slighted the Law and treated the court with contempt. The revolutionaries had now found another mode of fighting the British which they later used with much success. They began to spread the message of Nationalism, along with that of Revolution and Freedom, of which the first condition was to abjure the use of all foreign goods. This idea had not struck anyone till then except one or two persons for whom it was more of a whim than anything else. But now there appeared a book called Desher Katha written by Sakharam Ganesh Deuskar who, though he was a Marathi, wrote Bengali very well. It was he who, for the first time, used the word 'Swaraj'. He explained too, with the help of many well-substantiated proofs, how the British had exploited Bengal, had taken so much of its wealth by shattering its trade and commerce. Thus, he concluded, they had grown powerful, by maiming us.

"This book had a profound impact on the feelings of the people and gave a strong impetus to the Swadeshi Movement. I had always believed that commercial and industrial growth was essential for a successful revolution because without economic independence we would never be able to free ourselves from our reliance on the British.

"As long as I was living in Baroda, it was impossible for me to take part openly in politics. At that time I had not yet completely made up my mind to give up my job. Also, it was my nature always to work discreetly, from behind the veil."

"And it still is!" dared a little voice.

"Quite so!" laughed Sri Aurobindo. "I always worked secretly, even led the Movement without letting my name be known. But it was the British rulers who spoiled the game for me. It was they who dragged my name into the open. I'll tell you about it later.

"You see, I would often ask the Maharaja for extended leave and go to Bengal. There, my time would be mostly

Page 123

spent in revolutionary activities. During one such stay, I attended the Barisal meeting after which I toured East Bengal with Bepin Pal. I had my own reasons for wanting to draw closer to the Liberals in the Congress Party. In those days, the Congress Party was very large. Many well-known Indians were its leaders, but most of them were Moderates. It was my intention to draw the Congress Party away from the influence of these Moderates, making it an organ of the Swadeshi thought, and to use this vast and complex organisation as the means to bring about political revolution among the masses.

"I have already spoken to you about the paper Bande Mataram which Bepin Pal had started with very little money. He asked me to collaborate with him and I agreed immediately. This was the opportunity I had been looking for, as it could be the means to spread the ideas of revolution and nationalism. I was, of course, still working at Baroda. But when, a little while later, I was offered the principalship of the newly-established Bengal National College, I resigned from the Baroda service and came straightaway to Calcutta. This too was an unexpected gift made to me by my friend Raja Subodh Mullick. He helped to found the college with a gift of one lakh rupees which he made on one condition - that I should be its first Principal. He was an active member of our Swadeshi Party and I always put up with him whenever I went to Calcutta. All of you know Charu Dutt, don't you? Well, he was a close relative of Subodh Mullick."

"Yes, of course, we know him. We call him Dadu. He knows lots of fascinating stories about you," said Archan.

Sri Aurobindo smiled and said, "Yes, but don't swallow them all!" Then he continued:

"This new job made it possible for me to be in constant touch with all the political developments. I also brought together all the liberal-minded youths in the Congress to found a new party, which then joined with its counterpart in Maharashtra. At my suggestion Tilak was elected the

Page 124

national leader and we prepared ourselves for a trial of strength against the Moderates. At that time, the Moderates' wing of the Party was enormously influential, consisting of widely-respected, clever and calculating gentlemen. Beside them we were small fry, but you will see how all those big fish soon seemed to slither away. If I told you of all the political plots and intrigues that were woven to achieve this result, you would think you were listening to a highly colourful work of fiction!

"The second responsibility given to me was the work connected with the Bande Mataram paper - to turn it into the mouthpiece of the Party as well as to make it economically viable. When the Party sent Bepin Pal on a tour through the district towns, I had to bear the entire burden of bringing out the Bande Mataram. I used the paper to reiterate what I had proclaimed at the very outset - that Puma Swaraj, complete independence, was our aim. You could say that this was formulated for the first time in such clear terms. Until then the idea had seemed unthinkable to most people. In fact, the Moderates laughed at us and called us mad. But almost overnight, as though by magic, the country adopted this ideal. As for all the other changes that the Bande Mataram brought about, well, I will tell you of them by and by."

*

Sri Aurobindo began: "I have briefly recounted to you how the Bande Mataram paper grew to become the mouth-piece of the Nationalist Party and brought about very many changes. I shan't go into the details since I think you are still too young to understand the complexities of politics. All I can say is that the programme of work which Gandhi later undertook, that of lighting the flame of freedom in the masses, had already been initiated by us. We had prepared the people psychologically for freedom, and shaken the foundation of British imperialism in the country. In schools

Page 125

and colleges, we started boycott - a word which we were the first to use in India - and passive resistance, as well as nonacceptance of British justice and of British goods. In short, it was, in Gandhi's words, 'non-violent non-cooperation'. Simultaneously, in the Yugantar were published articles on the need for a revolution. Thus, we began a conflict on two fronts: with the government as well as with the Moderates and their loyalty to the British. For these reasons, both the paper and the National Party became very influential, all over the country. In the history of Indian journalism I believe no other paper has ever equalled the dramatic impact that the Bande Mataram had on the mind of the nation, preparing it for radical and revolutionary changes.

"You children will perhaps find it impossible to understand, to imagine, even, the state the country was in before the Nationalist Movement began. The sight of a single white man would make people cower and cringe, and if there were any Red Turbans - Indian policemen - around, then the children ran panic-stricken for their lives. What drew them out of this abysmal fear and cowardice and stupidity and inertia? What brought into their lives a new courage and light and valour? It was the cry of 'Bande Mataram', it was this call that shook them awake. This was the greatest gift the Bande Mataram gave to India, a gift that Gandhi made full use of in his Quit India Movement. The fiery writings that the paper published, together with the revolutionaries' bombs, had created an all-pervading atmosphere in the country which, if it had happened anywhere else in the world, would have led to a mass uprising of tremendous violence. Even here a countrywide mood of opposition to the foreign yoke was the result. I will relate to you two instances that will describe the state of mind of the average Indian. In the first instance, a young man, having shot a police officer, was running away. But he had forgotten to rid himself of his revolver. An ordinary shopkeeper by the roadside noticed and shouted to him - 'The revolver! Throw away the revolver! Throw it away!'

Page 126

"The second instance is an incident that took place at the Howrah Station. An Englishman assaulted an Indian boy. The little fellow shouted out 'Bande Mataram'. Immediately the cry was picked up by voice after voice and 'Bande Mataram', 'Bande Mataram' rang out from all sides. As the crowd round him grew bigger, the sahib took fright and ran for his life. There are so many similar stories."

"But it is impossible to believe that you could ever have taken recourse to violence and bloodshed," put in Sudeep.

"Is that so? And why, may I ask?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because I feel that you love everyone so much, that you care for all of us. And anyway, God can't kill anyone."

"Oh! So God is non-violent! My boy, do you think He runs the whole world without ever having to shed blood? That wars, killings and violence are only a cruel human game? Look, have you read the Gita? Then you know what Sri Krishna says. He says that He is born, that God is born, age after age, to uphold the Good and to destroy the Evil. Was it not Sri Krishna who turned Kurukshetra into a huge playfield of death, who destroyed the Kauravas? And what about Mother Durga, Kali? No, no. God is certainly not against violence, if it becomes necessary. He even takes up arms himself.

"But my political battle was not born of any personal dislike or disgust for the British. Neither was Sri Krishna's, for that matter. To fight against the enemies of one's country in order to ensure her greater good and welfare is never wrong."

"In Letters to Mrinalini you have described how a son feels when he sees a demon sitting astride his mother's breast, drinking her life-blood. Did you really consider India to be your mother?"

Sri Aurobindo said laughing, "Consider! If the country, to me, had been a mere geographical entity, just a collection of fields and forests, of mountains and rivers where lived a few million good, bad and indifferent people, do you think I

Page 127

would have imperilled so many people's lives, including my own? I am not a mere materialist. That my motherland was indeed my mother was to me a truth I had experienced. I loved her, I worshipped her just as you worship the Mother here. The land is as living as your breathing bodies, as dynamically alive. Otherwise patriotism makes no real sense."

"But during the Second World War, you supported the British, the self-same British!"

"That is so. And don't you know why? Firstly, you must understand that I had no grudge against the British as a people. I have never had any personal dislike or hatred for any individual or nation. We fought a political battle against a government which, like that demon, was drinking our mother's blood. When I realised that England and her government were fighting against a great demoniac power, I sided with her. Hitler represented a dark force whose diabolical intention was to drink the life-blood of the whole world and it was the English alone who stood out against him at a crucial period. Our patriotism was then no longer confined to India alone but encompassed the world and wished for universal good. There is nothing contradictory in this. Also, very few people realised in those days that if Hitler won the War it would be a hundred times worse for India. Do you understand?"

"We would like to know something more about the revolutionaries, if you please."

"Still more?" ;

"Yes. We've been told about the bombs the revolutionaries made to kill the British officers and even the Indians who worked for the British. We have also heard about armed attacks and raids. Were they real? And were you the leader of those men?"

"You mean, did I encourage them to loot and murder?"

"No, it's not that. But isn't revolution necessarily violent?"

"No, it is not quite so. Haven't I already explained to you

Page 128

what I meant by 'revolution'? Its aim was to prepare a national armed uprising and rebellion. A few random murders and killings were not part of my plan or work. Of course, one cannot categorically state that the role played by terrorism was futile. You see, the situation was somewhat like this - among the many revolutionary groups, Barin's became the predominant one. Of course he kept me informed about his plans, consulting me or asking for my advice whenever he found himself in a difficult situation. When the various groups became too numerous, I found it impossible to be in touch with all of them or to coordinate their plans. All I could do was to meet the leaders from time to time or when the situation required me to. On the other hand, we were passing through dire financial straits. Wealthy and influential members of our society were unwilling to help us. So naturally the only recourse was banditry and violence. This was risky, of course, the most dangerous aspect being the fear of losing the people's sympathy for our cause. But there was no other way. Alas, the Swadeshi Movement had made the government terribly agitated and afraid, because of which a reign of terror was unleashed on us. School and college students were often fined, expelled, thrown into prison, punished, even publicly whipped. When such acts reached extreme proportions the revolutionaries decided that something had to be done to counter them. It was almost as though terrorism was thrust upon the political revolutionary as his weapon. It was decided that all high officials, white or otherwise, of the government, be they police officers or governors, become targets for assassination. The political rebels had already begun making bombs, but now, in retaliation to the British repression, Barin decided to kill either the Governor or the Magistrate. A bomb was made for this purpose, and a group of young men prepared to carry out the killing. And it was this first bomb that exploded, killing by mistake two Englishwomen. There was a terrible hue and cry all over the country. This was how the terrorist movement started in India, growing progressively

Page 129

stronger and more widespread, generating throughout India a fiery and vibrant patriotism unimaginable to you today."

"But you did not approve of this movement, we are told."

"No, that is not quite true. What I did not approve of was all the petty gangsterism and the indiscriminate killing of the whites. All that had no part in our Revolution, according to me."

"Why did you not stop them?" asked Mandakini.

"I don't think a strong popular uprising against tyrants ought to be checked, because it may have very positive results. That was the mistake committed by the Non-cooperation Movement. It shook the people awake, no doubt, but at the same time it destroyed temporarily the force of active and violent resistance."

"What about your Swadeshi Movement?"

"The police became aware that a great national uprising was growing. Some of the high officials believed that I was the brain behind the killings. Twice they arrested me for my 'seditious' articles in the Bande Mataram, but failed to punish me since the law pronounced me innocent. According to the government authorities, who but I could have such a clever, cunning brain that could work out this complex network of plots of which even their most alert police officers had not had the least inkling? Almost in despair, they sent spies and search parties in every direction and that is how, one day, they discovered the bomb factory at the Maniktola Garden. Barin and his companions were immediately arrested, and so was I. I remember how my very pleasant early morning sleep was rudely shattered by a police officer and I was taken into custody. This, in short, is the history of our terrorist activity."

"So you had set up a bomb factory at the Maniktola Garden?" asked Sachet.

"No, it wasn't I. And one could hardly call it a factory! It, wasn't anything like our 'Harpagon' Workshop; just an old abandoned, tumble-down building where worked about a dozen boys. More often than not, these fellows used foul

Page 130

means rather than fair ones to procure the ingredients for making bombs."

"Just a small set-up?" asked Anirban.

"Not small at all, in the essential sense. In a country where it was illegal to possess any firearms, guns or pistols, wasn't it a very daring act of conspiracy to manufacture bombs secretly? And Barin was doing so in the very heart of Calcutta city, on a bit of land that was rather neglected and a building sufficiently dilapidated as not to draw anybody's attention."

"But didn't you know about it?" enquired Vinit.

"Yes, I did, though not in detail. All my time was taken up by a great deal of political activity in those days. I had to run the Bande Mataram journal, teach in the National College, build up our National Party in order to fight the Moderates. I was only the titular head of the Revolutionary Group. It was Barin who was its de facto leader. He merely kept me informed about the Group's activities."

"How did he and the others learn to make bombs, such activities being illegal and banned?"

"Aren't looting and killing illegal and banned? And don't people learn how to practise them? You may ask Nolini how they made the bombs. He knows all about it."

"Was he too part of the Group?"

"Don't let his gentle appearance and quiet ways deceive you! He learned everything directly from Barin himself and was one of those who carried a bomb for testing in Deoghar. He was also one of those who were caught red-handed at the Maniktola Garden. I have already explained how the boys learned much about the science of bomb-making from people like Sister Nivedita and Jagadish Chandra Bose. Of those young men, one of the brightest and most intelligent was Ullaskar Datta. He was the first to succeed in making a bomb for the Indian Swadeshi Movement. When Barin was setting up the factory he had sent Nolini to me with an invitation to go and see it. But for some reason I couldn't go then."

Page 131

Sachet interrupted, "Yes, yes, that is the incident I recounted the other day, of Nolinida's first darshan of you. You could not go to the factory because you had not had your lunch. Nolinida described to us the way you spoke Bengali." All the children were smiling. Sri Aurobindo also smiled, nodded, and continued, "Later, just before our arrest, Barin sent me two bombs so that I could examine them. I remember saying, 'Take them away immediately. The police will find out about them. Dismantle your factory and remove your things straightaway. Searches and raids are imminent.' I sensed something of what was to come and warned the boys. But they did not heed my words and hence got caught. I was spared by Fate, and at the same time realised that the prophecy of Lele had come true."

"What is that?" asked Sampada.

"You have heard about Lele, haven't you? Barin knew him. He had invited Lele to meet the young revolutionaries and, if he agreed, to teach them Yoga so that they might be trained to become great and fearless like Shivaji. Lele knew nothing of Barin's secret activities, but the moment he realised what was going on he advised him to give them up. 'You won't succeed,' he said. 'You will get caught and the consequences will be disastrous.' And that is just what happened. Another of his prophecies also came true. He said that no violence or bloodshed was necessary for India to win her independence, that she would become free by an act of Divine Grace. This was way back in 1907 or 1908. It wasn't Lele alone who said this, many other Yogis too foretold the same thing. But Barin did not believe Lele, for he found it completely incredible that the British should give us our freedom without being forced to do so through a violent, bloody revolution. It was, according to him, blatantly impossible, as impossible for instance as Kamsa suddenly becoming a lover of Krishna. Anyway, for the time being, it looked as if tyranny was in the ascendant and Kamsa was the victor. Barin and his friends became guests of the British government, and so did I. This was the

Page 132

romantic story of the Maniktola Garden. The boys used to call the jail their 'father-in-law's house'! I'll tell you more about it later. Just now let me finish relating to you the story of my overt participation in the political revolution and thus come to the close of this chapter of my life.

"I think I have already told you that my introduction into revolutionary politics was through writing articles for the Induprakash against the British as well as the Moderates in the Congress. After that my political activities were carried out in secret, up to about 1905, while I seemed ostensibly busy with other things. It was during that period that I joined the Congress and got to know Tilak. I was, at the time, in the service of the Maharaja of Baroda, and therefore I could not openly take part in any political activity; but I remember having long talks with Tilak all the same. All my contribution to politics during those years was secret, never openly made. My intention had always been to take away the power from the Moderates in the Congress Party. It was to this end that I helped establish the National Party with Tilak as its leader. I had clashed with the Moderates at several meetings already, for they were soft and weak. I thought theirs was a policy of prayer and petition, they seemed to beg for kindly concessions from the government. Such political clashes are too full of complex intrigues for your tender minds to understand. However, I shall briefly explain to you our Movement and its purpose. Do not forget that our aim was complete independence. The moment Bepin Pal, editor of the Bande Mataram, invited me to become its assistant-editor, albeit secretly, I accepted this role. From that day, I began writing articles advocating complete independence. Puma Swaraj. These articles quickly made a great impact on the minds of Indians all over the country. I went to Calcutta, giving up my job in Baroda. When the Bengal National College was established, I became the Principal there."

"You continued with your political activities while you were a professor?"

Page 133

"Yes, though it was done secretly, that is to say, anonymously. Of course, everyone knew who the author of the articles was. My name was on everybody's lips as well as in the government files and in all the Anglo-Indian papers."

"How did that happen?"

"According to them, nobody else could possibly have written the articles that were published in the Bande Mataram. When the government filed a case against the paper because of a particular piece of writing, my name came to light. And I was obliged to come forward to take my place as one of the leaders of the nation. It was the dashed government that spoiled the lovely game I had been playing in secret!

"Suren Banerjee was the undisputed leader of the Bengal Moderates and known as the uncrowned king of Bengal. He was middle-aged, short and thin; his scholarship was vast, his intelligence sharp. He was a fiery speaker and easily held sway over the minds of the Congressmen. As the leader of the Nationalist Party, I had quite a few clashes with him. For instance, at the Hooghly Conference, members from both the Moderate and the Nationalist Parties were present, and the subject under discussion was government reforms. The Moderates were for acceptance of the reforms, we were strongly against it. The more the debate got heated, the more did Banerjee grow furious. At that point, I stood up and, having requested our Party members to become calm, explained the issue clearly to them and asked them to leave the place quietly. This inflamed the gentleman still more and he shouted, 'The people we older leaders could not tame, this thirty-year-old lad has done! He merely raised a careless finger at them and they followed his lead!' For, you see, it was never my custom to be verbose; restraint and logic always characterised my speeches. Banerjee, I must add, had a magnetic power of his own, and at one time he had even begun veering towards the revolutionaries.

"Our final and most dramatic confrontation with the

Page 134

Moderates took place at the Surat Congress, as a result of which they lost their hold, and the Party was taken over by the Radicals."

"That meeting turned into a regular battle, didn't it?"

"Who told you that?"

"Our teachers. And it was you who...."

Sri Aurobindo laughed and said, "Gave the battle-orders? Fighting and rowdyism! A meek and quiet man like me! Can you believe that? Listen, this is how it happened. The two opposing groups met at Surat. Our opponents were more in number, had name and fame and age on their side. Our group was made up entirely of unknown men, except for Tilak, Bepin Pal and me. The Moderates had decided on no account to let Tilak speak. But he did. While the speech was in progress, a shoe came flying and hit one of our leaders. With that, the shouting and shrieking began. When one of our volunteers asked me what was to be done, I told him to break up the meeting. Fist fights followed, chairs were hurled all about.

"This is how our Nationalist Party was formed. You will find that the aims we set before us and the means we decided upon were very much like those which Mahatma Gandhi much later followed. His ideas about boycotting law courts, schools and foreign goods, of passive resistance or non-violence were all part of our programme. Gandhi's most famous weapon - a revolt based on non-violent non-cooperation - was already practised by us. When I began to write in the Bande Mataram, I set down my plan of action very clearly in that paper:

"Our aim was Swaraj, self-rule, Freedom.

"Our means would be: non-cooperation, passive resistance, national education, self-reliance along with boycott of British goods, fair and proper method of arbitration, and so on. I wrote about all this in article after article in the Bande Mataram in order to shatter the dreams the Moderates had woven around themselves, their dreams about the advantages of foreign rule, their faith in British law and justice,

Page 135

their attachment to a western education. I laid most emphasis on" the boycott of British goods and on our need for reliance on Swadeshi, that is, indigenous products, because the British had reduced our prosperous land to abject poverty and slavery not so much by political means as by strangling us through trade and commerce and material domination. My second aim was to reform our education system. In Baroda, I had already seen to what extent western education had harmed the youth of our country, how the brightness of their intelligence had been tarnished and dimmed. That is why I had wanted to start national schools where the education given would help the genius of the race to flower along its own lines. I had hoped to take charge of this new system of education, but my arrest made that impossible. Today, after so many years, that dream is moving towards fulfilment, here in the Ashram. You all have come here to participate in that true education. I do not think I need to say more. Those who know anything about political history will be able to discern how the revolutions of the future are moving largely along the paths indicated by us.

"My participation in the National Movement lasted a few short years only, but the changes brought about were extraordinary. And Gandhi made full use of this phenomenon.

"The most glorious change was the new awakening in the nation. The mantra of 'Bande Mataram' had lit new flames of hope and enthusiasm throughout the land. Men and women, all felt that it was worthwhile to be alive. During the French Revolution, the poet Wordsworth who was in France at that time wrote:

'Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be young was very heaven.'

"People seemed to feel a similar joy and strength. It was this indestructible power flaming up repeatedly that led the

Page 136

nation to the threshold of Independence. This, in short, is the story of my political life which led me finally into a

prison cell."

"Why did you say that 'Bande Mataram' was a mantra?"

"What I meant was that the chanting of 'Bande Mataram' had flooded the land with a new tide of patriotism. It acted as a mantra."

"But why do you call it a mantra?" asked Aloka.

"Should I not call it a mantra, when the mere uttering of these words had filled a half-moribund race with new life, reinvigorated it with new powers and capacities, enabling it even to face the hangman with a smile? If this is not a mantra, then what is? In those days of the Swadeshi Movement, the cry of 'Bande Mataram' rent the skies and shook the deepest foundations of the mighty British Empire, terrifying our masters so that they were forced to ban this cry. It was these words, ringing night and day from the lips of revolutionaries, politicians and non-cooperators that led us forward on the path of freedom. The story of 'Bande Mataram' is marvellous indeed. None of Bankim's countrymen had realised the greatness of this hymn at the time he had written it. They had considered it only as a strange mixture of Sanskrit and Bengali. It is a pity the Congress has given it a second place."

"Did Bankim really experience what he wrote about the motherland?"

"Of course he must have! How else could he have written the song? It is said that Bankim composed it very fast. When the editor of the Bangadarshan went to ask him for some contribution to his journal, he gave the gentleman this poem. The latter's eyes skimmed over the sheet which he folded with a condescending 'Not bad'. This comment so irritated Bankim that he took the poem back, saying, 'You cannot now understand the significance of this song. You will perhaps do so someday, when I shall no longer be here.' It was after this incident that he inserted the poem in his novel Anandamath. Everyone read the book, admired

Page 137

and praised it, but no one remarked upon 'Bande Mataram'. It was Rabindranath Tagore who was the first losing this song in public at a Congress meeting, many years later. But the nation forgot about it once again until there came the partition of Bengal. 'Bande Mataram' was revived anew. However, an attempt was made to discard it and to replace

it wholly by another song, but fortunately without success."

"But you didn't explain what a mantra really is!" said Anand.

"A mantra is an inner truth put into self-effective language - either new truth or old truth made new by expression and realisation.

"But its most important characteristic is that it expresses much more than the mere substance and meaning of its word. The rhythm and reverberations of its sound can bring one a sense of the infinite."

"Our teacher once gave us an example of a phrase that achieved something great. It was 'Vive la France'. When the Germans had conquered France, they had demanded that the German language replace French in all the schools. A village school-teacher had retaliated by writing 'Vive la France' in bold letters on the blackboard. Though of course a German bullet ripped his body almost instantaneously, his invincible phrase spread across the land like wildfire, inspiring the French to battle for freedom from the oppressor."

"Yes, such is the power of certain words. I have already told you about the sixteen-year-old lad, Chitta Guhathakurta, whose skull was shattered by the blows of the police and yet his lips cried out 'Bande Mataram'. Another boy, Sushil Sen, sang the self-same song while he was being mercilessly whipped; with every lash he shouted aloud 'Bande Mataram'. Satyen, Kanai, Khudiram - all mounted the gallows chanting this very hymn. Your Tejenda's father, Bagha Jatin too died uttering 'Bande Mataram'. History tells us that mantric words like these have always given a

Page 138

captive nation the fire and force enabling it to become free.

"All these are instances of the power of the mantra - in the field of nationalism and politics. But its effect in poetry and in the spiritual life is truly miraculous. Have you heard about the Rishis of the Vedas and the Upanishads, and of the Riks or Shiokas they uttered? A divine hearing had revealed these verses to them, and so it is said that the origin of the Vedic creation is supernatural, apauruseya. The undistorted and right utterance of these mantras carries in it the power of spiritual realisation.

"In The Future Poetry I have said that the poetry of the future at its highest will be mantric, as the Vedas and the Upanishads were. For instance:

"There the sun cannot shine and the moon has no lustre: all the stars are blind: there our lightnings flash not, neither any earthly fire. For all that is bright is but the shadow of His brightness and by His shining all this shines.' "

"The Mother has described Savitri as mantric, and your poem 'Rose of God' too."

"Is that so? Well, 'Rose of God' and a few others have come down, in their entirety, from a higher plane. It is my custom, often, to make alterations after I have written the poem - alterations which also come from 'overhead' - but 'Rose of God' is as if it were already composed and arranged in full and came down after a slight pull without needing any change."

"Though we do not understand the poem, the beauty of the diction and the rhythm draws us irresistibly, it captivates us," said Amal.

"The mantra is primarily a harmony of sounds and that is why it is not always necessary to understand the sense. The waves of sound can generate in you vibrations of light and joy and force and can even draw up your consciousness to a

Page 139

higher plane. Take, for example 'Bande Mataram' that we were talking about. If you change it into 'Mataram Bande', you do not alter the sense at all, but it is no longer mantric. It will never make your hair stand on end!"

"Then, could we say that it is poetry alone that can express the mantra?"

"Why so? Prose too can do it, though less often."

"When we read the Mother's Prayers and Meditations, we have this kind of experience. Your book The Mother is also extraordinary."

"Yes, they generate a special force, not merely through their thought-substance, but also through the sound effects."

"But we never realised that!" admitted Vinit.

"That is because they are prose works. But all great prose must have the power of rhythm and harmony."

"Your poem 'A God's Labour' also thrills us. The rhythm and feeling seem to exceed the words; as in the very first stanza:

'I have gathered my dreams in a silver air

Between the gold and the blue,

And wrapped them softly and left them there,

My jewelled dreams of you.' "

"There you are! You have already experienced something. of the power of the mantra. Similarly, if you recite aloud the finest lines of very great poetry, you will feel within you the beauty of Sound. As the Vaishnava poet said - Through the ear, it shall pierce your soul.' And you will then be able to grasp the core of the mantra or great poetry.

"Now let us go back to the subject in hand."

"You did not tell us anything about the secret Revolution, about the revolutionary change. What happened? You spoke of Khudiram - was he a Nationalist? 'We have been told that many were sentenced to be hanged for having murdered Englishmen."

"Not only Englishmen, Indians too."

Page 140

"Indians too? Why them?"

"Because they served as police officials under the British. But it isn't as if I haven't told you anything about the Nationalist Movement. I have done so, something at least. I have also explained that the more I became openly involved in political activities the more my secret revolutionary work slipped out of my hands. And the Nationalist Movement turned gradually into a violent movement although the government was largely responsible for that. I have described to you the brutalities of the police, the cruel whippings ordered by the magistrates. Naturally the young men would not accept such tyranny for long and the desire for revenge began to flare up in them which led to the making of bombs. Barin was their leader. After the first bomb was made, more young men flocked to him to study the making and handling of bombs. Of them Nolini was one. Did you ask him about bombs?"

"It's difficult to see him, he's always so busy. You tell us."

"But I wasn't there! I have heard that while a certain young man was examining a bomb, it blew up in his face. He had no time to throw it and run away. At the second attempt, it was two Englishwomen who were mistakenly killed in place of the District Magistrate. On that occasion one of the boys shot himself dead before the authorities could reach him; the other was arrested and hanged. Though this violent rebellion was not ultimately successful, the young men who took part in it displayed great courage and patriotism. The violence continued until Gandhi took over with his non-violent movement. The attack on the Chittagong armoury was its last battle, with women too joining it towards the end. But the violent revolutionaries did not succeed; in fact, most of them were caught. It was only to be expected, wasn't it, for they were vastly out-numbered by the well-equipped government forces.

"But that wasn't the real reason for this failure. It was because the great Force which had come down in our time gradually began to withdraw its intensity. That is why they

Page 141

failed. But the Force continued to work. It had shaken the race awake in such a way that the British found it impossible to continue being in India."

"How did you get caught?"

"After the bomb went off, there were many raids and searches. The authorities heard about the Maniktola Garden. That was where Barin's boys used to meet.

"Barin was arrested with the rest of his fellows, and so was I afterwards, at my place. This was because I was Barin's elder brother, a revolutionary leader whom Nevinson, a British journalist, had described after having met me as 'the man who never smiles.' They also considered me 'the most dangerous man in the British Empire'! (Laughter) So, that most dangerous man was finally arrested early one fine morning when he was fast asleep in the house he lived in with his wife and sister! The police chief had the house surrounded by well-armed, gun-toting constables, himself entering my room with a loaded revolver in his hand! As if I was a dangerous criminal who might become violent or try some daring escape! And when he found that I was nothing but a peace-loving Bengali perfectly willing to do as he was told, the police chief might even have thought that I was up to some tricks!"

"But why did the police arrest you? Were there bombs and guns hidden in your house?"

"Well, I found myself obliged to spend one whole year in prison, even though the most thorough searches never revealed anything - no hidden weapons, no guns and bombs - in my house. If there had been, I would surely have been hanged. Barin almost was, and I was not only his elder brother but also his leader. Until then, they had found no concrete proof to enable them to arrest me, all they could do was to strongly suspect me."

"The prison-life we usually see in films is terrible!"

"In my time too many used to react in the same way. I was perhaps the first to feel something different. There was no fear."

Page 142

"Didn't anyone else in your family feel frightened?" "I don't know much about the rest of my family, but I am sure my wife and my sister were terrified. If I had been afraid, how could I have taken part in the revolution? Besides, in those days, I had attained a high point in my Yoga...."

"You were already doing Yoga in those days?"

"Why should you be surprised? Is it because you believe Yoga is something very different from politics? I think I have told you that as early as 1907 Lele had helped me realise Nirvana. From that time on, all my activities proceeded from this plane of experience. I was not the only one, however, who followed the yogic discipline. Many of the political leaders were either Yogis themselves or were disciples of Yogis."

"Please, what is Nirvana like?" asked Kriti.

"Nirvana is a state of absolute peace. Haven't you noticed the expression of deep, infinite peace on the face of the Buddha? After having attained Nirvana, the Buddha returned to active life. His actions and decisions brought about a series of great and far-reaching changes in the world, but they all stemmed from this peace and quietude. We are told that he had become free from fear and worry, from longing and desire. Even a mad elephant became quiet and still in his presence. I am glad you asked this question. Now we can talk a little about Yoga."

"Yes, but politics also is what we would like to discuss. We don't really understand it."

"As if we understand Yoga any better!" piped up a small, teasing voice.

But Sri Aurobindo smilingly explained:

"Maybe you do not know much about Yoga, but you have heard a great deal about it. And since the soil that bore you is the land of Yoga, it is but natural that you should feel eager to learn more about it. In the beginning, more or less everyone has wrong notions about Yoga, and so did I. I believed that to be a Yogi, one must give up the world and

Page 143

become an ascetic."

"Why have you never told us anything about your family life? There are many people who want to know why you, a Yogi, got married in the first place."

"What a foolish thing to say! And I have heard it over and over again. My dear children, did I then know that I was to become a Yogi? And besides, there is no need to assert that marriage must necessarily stand in the Yogi's way. Do not forget, mine is not the path of asceticism or Sannyasa, like that of Shankara or the Buddha. Our aim is to accept the world and its activities and yet not be bound by it, to go beyond it, in fact. Tyaktena bhuñjītāh, enjoyment through renunciation, as the Isha Upanishad puts it. My aim was the independence of my motherland, not yogic realisation. When it became clear to me that the pursuit of Yoga could bring various occult powers within man's reach, I decided to obtain them, so that, with their help, I might liberate my country. It was then that I began to be drawn to Yoga. That is why I have said that I entered the path of Yoga by the back-door."

"But later, you did give up your home and family when you came away to Pondicherry, did you not?" asked Aloka.

"You mean, left my wife and sister? A little while ago I told you that ever since the Nirvana state was firmly established in my being, all my life had been guided by the yogic influence and by the Divine Will. Until the day I went to prison, and even after that, I had been a family man. At the time of my arrest, both my wife and my sister were living with me. But when God said to me first 'Go to Chandernagore' and afterwards 'Go to Pondicherry', I left home, alone."

"Didn't Sri Ramakrishna also marry?"

"Yes, he did. He lived with his wife as a Yogi. He proved that marriage and Yoga are not mutually exclusive.

"I took up the responsibilities of married life long before I entered the path of Yoga. I did so by choice. Earlier, when I

Page 144

was involved in the Nationalist Movement, I had sought to share my path with my wife, so that she might be my support and a partner in my endeavour. But the moment I realised that I was meant to lead a spiritual life, I tried to prepare her too for such a life."

"Didn't she suffer terribly when they arrested you? She hadn't had any spiritual realisations then, had she?"

"No, of course not! But she already knew, certainly, that hers was not an ordinary husband, and that the work he had undertaken entailed dangers and difficulties at every step. Besides being a nationalist leader, I was obliged to be away so often touring the country that she must have got used to my being more of an absentee-husband than anything else!"

"Did Mrinalini Devi know that you were a Yogi?"

"I began my Yoga in 1904, three years after my marriage. In 1908 I received important help from Lele and discovered the foundations of my Sadhana. At the right time I also made it clear to Mrinalini that I had three overriding madnesses or manias that drove me. Firstly, I believed that all that I possessed, my powers or my talents, my wisdom or my wealth, everything was given to me by God. Secondly, I must somehow see God. My third madness was to liberate my motherland."

"You are referring to 'Letters to Mrinalini', are you not?"

"Yes, I am, and if you have read those letters, then all these questions are quite unnecessary. You also find several references to my domestic life in them."

"They are very beautiful indeed, very touching. One of our teachers has told us that when she was a little girl she lived next door to Mrinalini. She remembers her lighting incense and putting flowers before the feet in a photo of your, every day, morning and evening. After that she would call all the children, including our teacher, and give them fruits and flowers."

"Did your sister ever come here?" one of the children asked.

Page 145

"Yes, she did, but she couldn't stay. She wasn't ready for Yoga. Barin came later, but he too left after some years. Now, it's all of you who make up my spiritual family."

The children looked happily at one another.

"But we know nothing about Yoga!"

"Nor did I, at the outset. Even after I had my first spiritual experiences, my faith remained incomplete, my aspiration imperfect. On the other hand, I knew very well that the Vedas, the Upanishads and the Gita were founded on absolute truth. It was when I was thus psychologically pulled in different directions that a friend in Baroda advised me to take up Yoga. He himself practised Hathayoga and asanas and enjoyed, like all missionaries, drawing others into his fold. But I never responded enthusiastically to him, partly because I had a wrong notion about Yoga. For at that time all I wanted was to devote my energies and my time to the nation. It was the motherland I wished to serve, her freedom which I prayed and fought for. Since I believed that all this had no place in Yoga, I had decided that Yoga was not for me. When I finally did turn to it, it was with this prayer in my heart - 'Lord, if Thou art, then surely Thou art All-Wise. Thou knowest that I seek neither salvation nor liberation. All I ask for is the Strength to uplift this fallen nation, and to sacrifice my life to her cause.'

"When I realised that by practising Yoga one could acquire great powers, I told myself that this then was the way by which I could help my country. Also a few things happened that increased my faith in the Yogic Force. Once Barin came back from the Vindhya mountain with very persistent mountain fever. He was treated, but wasn't cured. One day a Naga Sannyasi happened to come by. He took a cupful of water and cut it crosswise with a knife while repeating a mantra. He then asked Barin to drink it, saying he wouldn't have fever the next day, and the fever left him! I was so surprised and impressed that I decided to master the secrets of this science. It was a very small incident, apparently as insignificant as Newton's apple. That was when I

Page 146

began practising Pranayama. It was in 1904. I pursued my yogic training and my nationalistic activities side by side on my own. For almost four years I did Pranayama and other practices for five or six hours a day."

"Four years! Five or six hours daily!" Sri Aurobindo said laughing, "Don't worry. I won't subject you to such a harsh discipline!... The results I gained were miraculous. The brain became full of light. The mind worked with great illumination and power. At that time I used to write poetry. Usually I wrote five to eight or ten lines per day, about two hundred lines in a month. After Pranayama I could write two hundred lines within half an hour. Formerly my memory was dull, but afterwards when the inspiration came, I could remember the lines in their order and write them down conveniently at any time. Along with this enhanced mental activity I could see an electric energy all around the brain, I could write prose and poetry with a flow. That flow has never ceased since then. The moment I want to write it is there. I also began seeing many visions of scenes and figures.

"I improved greatly in health: I grew stout and strong, the skin became smooth and fair and there was a flow of sweetness in the saliva. There were plenty of mosquitoes but they did not come to me!

"It was around this time that I gave up meat and found a great feeling of lightness and purity in the system.

"There is an interesting story regarding the sweet taste of the saliva in the mouth. There is an order of the Naga Sannyasis whose aim is to acquire that sweetness in the mouth, because it is supposed to make a man immortal. The required discipline for this is called 'khecharimudra'. The membrane below the tongue has to be slit and certain practices are to be followed, as a result of which a sweetness comes into the saliva from what is called the 'brahmarandhra', the secret opening at the top of the head to the spiritual planes above. This is called 'amrita rasa' or the nectar of immortality. At one time, Barin fell in with these

Page 147

Sannyasis. One of them tempted him with many promises and powers. But Barin absolutely refused to slit the tongue-membrane. They then taunted him, calling him a Bengali coward! Barin replied adamantly, 'Bengali I may be and coward too, but I am on no account ready to have my tongue cut! Absolutely not!' " (Laughter)

"Could you please explain to us what Pranayama exactly is? We know what asanas are; we take lessons from Ambubhai for that."

"It is rather difficult to describe Pranayama to you in a few simple words. But the word 'Pranayama' means the mastery over the forces of prana, of life. It implies that the life-force in a person depends upon the inhalation and exhalation of the breath. Pranayama is a form of breath-control. If the breathing follows a particularly disciplined pattern or system of inhaling, holding and exhaling air, it helps to open up many of the centres of life-energy in the being. Pranayama is one of the disciplines followed specially in Hathayoga partially in Rajayoga."

"But what has this to do with the ability to write poetry?" asked Jones.

"Pranayama helps to cleanse the mind and make it quiet, so that many of the higher and inner centres of energy begin to open. For example, the power of poetic composition is born of inspiration and by inspiration we mean that which comes down or is sent down. The ideal condition for the descent of this power is a perfectly silent mind. In our Yoga too, we lay great stress on mental silence and quietude. One of the ways of obtaining such a silence is Pranayama. It is a subtle science and, if it is rightly followed, it can help us enormously in our progress. But, on the other hand, it cart have disastrous results if it is not performed correctly. I underwent a terrible experience, myself, not because I had made any mistakes in doing Pranayama, but because I was practising very irregularly, owing to a great pressure of work. Consequently, I fell seriously, almost fatally ill. Yet I also gained from it such wonderful, almost miraculous

Page 148

powers that the being was completely caught up in them and became unable to progress further. At that point, I had to ask a Yogi to help me."

"But I still have not understood what Yoga is and how to practise it. Are you telling us that Pranayama is Yoga?"

"Not necessarily. According to some traditional systems both Pranayama and Asanas are considered essential in the pursuit of yogic discipline. Perhaps your difficulty in understanding stems from the fact that you don't find these practices being strictly followed in the Ashram. Isn't that so?"

"Exactly."

"You see, in our Yoga, we don't need them. The Mother's Yoga, which is also mine, takes up the essence of all the systems and goes beyond them; it is therefore a new and Integral Yoga. The realisations that are obtained by following other Yogas can be had in ours too without your having to perform Pranayama and Asanas. Do you think you could have trained yourselves to do all those things?"

"Goodness, no! Our life is just fine as it is - we go to school, have fun, eat well. We go to the Mother on our birthdays. She gives us so many sweets and books. She takes our classes too and talks to us about so many things. What have we to worry about? Certainly not Yoga!" (Laughter)

"You don't have to. You are all very young and your studies are your Sadhana, as the Sanskrit saying goes. The one thing you must always remember is to do what the Mother asks you to, obey her in all things. If you love her and have faith in her, she will do everything for you."

"And what about you?" asked Archan.

Sri Aurobindo answered smiling, "It's the same thing. But since the Mother is always with you, close to you, she has taken the entire charge of your lives, whereas I remain in the background. At the most, I tell you a few stories and give you my darshan. And as far as the Yoga is concerned, we are doing it for you."

"You are doing it for us?" asked Vinit in surprise.

Page 149

"Who do you think we are doing it for? Do you think we have any needs of our own?"

"Nirodda once read out to us in class your answer to a letter of his - the one where he asked for a small seat tucked away somewhere in your train."

Sri Aurobindo said laughing, "And what did I write to him?"

"You told him that that was exactly what you were busy doing - reserving seats for poor Nirodda and for many others like him." (Laughter)

*

Anand, one of the young ones, asked: "Why did you say that there was no direct relation between Yoga and the powers that you acquired by doing Pranayama?"

"Well, can you say that to be a poet or to increase the poetic creativity, is part of Yoga? That would mean that every poet is a Yogi! Or do you consider that my acquiring a lighter complexion was a means or a result of having realised the Divine? These cannot be termed spiritual experiences or realisations."

"But you did have spiritual experiences too," said Anshu.

"Yes, but they happened before I really took up Pranayama, at a time when I hardly knew anything about Yoga. I didn't give them much importance then. In fact, I was not very interested in Yoga at all because it had no place in my field of work at the time. Besides, the experiences came with such a suddenness, without any prior notice at all - that's another reason why I did not pay them much heed. The moment I set foot on Apollo Bunder, on my return to India, something marvellous happened. I think I have told you about it. Then again, one day, as I was riding in a carriage through the streets of Baroda, the horse seemed suddenly to go wild, rearing and leaping and almost overturning the carriage! At that very moment I felt a Form emanate from me, luminous, vast, covering

Page 150

the whole sky. The horse was instantly calmed and I was saved."

"Yes, you read out to us the sonnet. It's called 'Godhead'. Did you write it in Baroda?"

"No, I wrote it here, in Pondicherry, many years later. Then there is the instance of the experience I had on the Himalayas when I visited Kashmir with the Maharaja. There, when I climbed the hill on top of which was Shankaracharya's temple to Shiva, I immediately experienced the Infinite. I saw an infinitely vast Emptiness covering the universe.

"Another spiritual experience occurred in Chandod where I had gone to meet the Yogi Brahmananda. This place is on the bank of the river Narmada, which is dotted with innumerable temples, big and small. I entered a Kali temple and lo! It was not a figure of stone that was there, but Mother Kali herself. It is since then that I began worshipping the Divine Mother and my belief in the Presence of the Divine, even in idols, grew strong and sure. I may add that until then I did not have much faith in gods and goddesses.

"But these experiences were not enough and even whatever spiritual practices I was doing did not suffice.

"I found that I could not progress beyond a certain point. It was then that I realised that I needed the help of a Yogi who would show me the way out of this difficulty. I asked Barin to help me find one. It was the time when we were preparing for the Surat Congress, getting ready for a decisive battle with the Moderates. Barin had by then heard of Lele and sent him a telegram requesting him to come to Baroda. It seems that Lele, on receiving the telegram, felt that he was being asked to give initiation to a very special person. He agreed to help me on condition that I give up politics temporarily to go and live with him. At that time our political activities were extremely hectic. But on my way back from Surat, after our confrontation with the Moderates, I slipped away. My friends knew where I was, but no one disturbed me. For three days, I stayed with Lele, shut

Page 151

up with him in one small room in Baroda. What happened was absolutely extraordinary, unbelievable. He told me: 'Sit down! Do not speak. Just look, you will find all your thoughts coming into you from outside. Throw them away before they can enter you.' I sat down, asking no questions and looked. To my surprise, I realised that what he had said was indeed true. I saw and felt absolutely clearly thoughts trying to enter me through the head and found myself pushing them away as if they were solid objects. In this manner, within three days, my mind became free of thoughts and was filled instead by an eternal silence. That motionless silence is there to this day."

"It sounds so strange the idea that our thoughts come to us from outside. If anyone else had said it, we'd never have believed it!"

"I used to feel exactly the same way. But I believed Lele, or rather I asked no questions. I only did what I was told. As if by magic, the mind became still, filled with a silence akin to the silence on high mountain-peaks. From then on, the mind, as we understand it, has ceased to function. The Spirit of Mind, the Being of universal Mind, he who, though he is completely free and all-wise, labours as a slave in the small factory of thought, was liberated. The treasures of the innumerable kingdoms of knowledge became accessible and I could freely draw whatever I wished from the worlds of thought. Even the consequences of this experience were extraordinary; I have referred to them in the poem 'Nirvana'. Have you read it?"

Most of the children said, "No."

"Yes, I have. But I didn't understand it," replied Sudeep.

"There is nothing to understand. It is only an exact description of the change my being underwent."

"But if you tell us something more about it, perhaps it will become clearer."

Sri Aurobindo said smiling, "Well, it was as if the whole world were a series of pictures on a cinema screen; moving in and floating out, unstable, transitory, without substance

Page 152

or truth, illusory in short. For example, here I am talking to you; well, there was no 'I' at all, there was nothing, no world. The only truth was a universal Reality, perhaps describable only as 'That'! No more were there any I or you or a room, the material world had been replaced by a universal Nihil, a Nothingness, in which the only Reality was That. Do you follow?"

No answer.

"Was this why you said that you hadn't understood anything?"

Sudeep replied, "Yes."

"Then perhaps you should have recourse to Imagination."

"What you call 'Nirvana' is the realisation of the Buddha. But it took him six years!" said Sudeep.

"It took me only three days, and even Lele was surprised."

"Why do you say that he was surprised?" asked Udita.

"Because he had not expected this to happen to me, perhaps he did not even want it to. Nirvana is the realisation of the Adwaita Consciousness, the culmination of the Vedantic path of knowledge, and his was the path of love and devotion. Isn't it surprising that instead of love all I perceived was a universal Nihil? I too was surprised, but for a different reason. If existence was indeed illusory, then the aims and ideals I had been struggling to achieve all those years, the freedom of India, the welfare of humanity, were they equally unreal and illusory?"

"Then why did you have such an experience, in the first place?"

"How am I to explain that to you? The will of the Lord does not follow our dictates and our standards; we cannot demand His obedience to nor acceptance of our opinions. After all, He is wiser than all of us, is He not? Let us conclude therefore that perhaps the path of knowledge was more useful for me, in the work I was doing."

"But was it possible to work at all after that kind of experience?"

Page 153

"Though I told you that all in the manifested universe seemed nothing more than moving pictures on a screen, I also knew that behind it there stood an infinitely vast immutable Consciousness or Being. Besides, I could hear God's commands to me, telling me what to do. He it was was both Guru and Leader."

"Not Lele? But I thought it was him."

"No, no. I cannot quite call him my Guru. In fact, he appeared completely surprised, even overwhelmed, by all that happened. He had never seen anything like my surrender to him, so absolute, so immediate and unquestioning. He told me - or was it the Lord who used his voice? - to offer myself with the same absoluteness to the Divine dwelling within me, to put myself completely in His hands. You may be even more puzzled to know that when I met him again, two or three months later, and he inquired about my Sadhana, he was positively frightened to learn about its progress and results. He had asked me to meditate three times a day, but I had not done it. Again he had advised me to follow the commands of my inner voice, but I obeyed the indications that I received from above. I did not sit down to meditate because I was in a state of constant meditation, very much like the poet-saint Ramprasad who was so continuously conscious of Kali's presence that he did not feel the need to worship Her at any of the times indicated for puja.

"Lele was so bewildered by what was happening to me that he decided that I was on the wrong path. 'The Devil has possessed you,' he announced to me one day and even wanted to undo all that he had done to me. I answered him inwardly by saying that if this was indeed the Devil who had possessed me, then I would follow his path and no other. That was the end of our relationship."

"But how could he make such a mistake?"

"His knowledge was limited to his sole path, you see. It was not deep and vast as Ramakrishna's, which is why Totapuri failed to understand the latter. But Lele had the

Page 154

evocative power, he could awaken the latent faculties in the individual and for this I shall always be grateful to him. In all other respects, for example, as regards knowledge, wisdom, power, his being was not receptive enough."

One small, very hesitant voice piped up:

"I too find it rather incredible, this realisation of yours within just three days!"

"Are you Lele?" joked Rohit.

"Why should I be? But I can very well be as surprised as he was, can't I? Although I'm not sure I understand the subject very much."

"It's natural to feel surprised. And though I said three days, in actual fact it took me just one day - which makes it even more unusual and unbelievable. Anyway, let me tell you a story:

"When I first came to Pondicherry, a certain young man - not a disciple, I didn't have disciples in those days! - came to see me. 'How does one do Yoga?' he asked me. I told him to silence the mind. He did so. His mind became completely still and empty. At which, panic-stricken, he came running to me - 'My mind is completely empty. There are no thoughts. I am turning into an idiot.' It seemed to me that such words could be spoken only by one who was already an idiot. Welt, anyhow, I was not so patient in those days, so I let him go. He stopped coming to see me. He also lost the divine silence that had been given to him."

"Can't we get it?" asked Rahul.

"If you did now, you might become like him, because you are still immature. First develop your minds, then we shall see. But let me continue my own story - what happened to me after my mind became quite empty. I asked Lele, 'Here I am, with my mind completely blank, empty, free of thought. But how then am I to make the speeches that I am expected to make? On my way back to Calcutta, at Poona first, then at Bombay, there will be meetings where I must speak.' He told me not to worry. He said, 'When you stand before the audience, with folded hands invoke God and wait quietly.

Page 155

You will find that your voice will say whatever is necessary.' Again, with complete faith in his words, I followed his advice. It was just as he had said it would be. I myself was astonished. My earlier speeches had always been carefully thought out, though thinking had never been very hard for me. But this was miraculous. It was exactly as if the Goddess Saraswati put the words into my mouth! All my speeches that followed, from the one at Poona to the one I made in Calcutta, all were spoken in the same way. Not only my speeches - my writings, my conversations, everything flowed down henceforth from above the mind. I could never have undertaken the immense task that I am doing with only the mind for my guide, could I?"

"On your return to Calcutta after the Nirvana experience, didn't you find it difficult to resume all your work?"

"Not at all! I had so many responsibilities - political and national - such as editing the Bande Mataram, addressing meetings, and so on."

"But then, what about your Sadhana?"

"You still do not seem to realise that work and Sadhana are not incompatible. The notion instilled by the earlier Yogas are so deep-rooted in the race that they have influenced even your child-minds. But I for one do not find anything surprising or difficult in being able to continue with all my work, be it national or domestic, writing or teaching, while pursuing my Sadhana most earnestly, because I consider work to be part of Sadhana. In fact, this is one of the main characteristics of our Yoga here."

Sachet said, "But if I were to attain the peace of Nirvana, I believe I would give up all my activities!"

"Vivekananda too had said something on those lines, to which Sri Ramakrishna had retorted, 'But that makes you terribly selfish!' As a matter of fact, after the Nirvanic experience, one does tend to withdraw oneself from the world, that danger is indeed there. But we are not doing the Yoga for our own sake. If that were so, there would have been no need to establish this Ashram, nor need I have come down

Page 156

into the world at all. However, my habitual activities did soon come to an abrupt end - the day God sent the police to me with a warrant of arrest and took me to the Alipore Jail."

"God did that?" gasped Vinit.

"Since I had surrendered all my responsibilities to Him, since my patriotism was nothing other than His worship and I knew it was He who was guiding me at every step - why should I then not say that it was He who did it? The police were merely an excuse and an instrument. Of course, this knowledge became a certitude only after I went to prison."

"But why did the Lord treat you so harshly?"

Sri Aurobindo answered smiling, "What may seem harsh or cruel to us in its immediate appearance, often turns out to be extremely sweet, ultimately. In jail, He told me, 'The bonds you could not break, I have broken for you. I have brought you here so that you may prepare yourself for the task I have chosen for you.' In fact, a month or so before my arrest, God had indicated to me to give up everything, in order to pursue my Sadhana in earnest solitude so that I might draw even closer to Him. But I was so attached to my country and my work that I could not accept His suggestion. And hence the arrest. God's 'cruel punishment' to me!..."

"On the 2nd of May, I, along with many others, was arrested and put in prison where I remained for a whole year. You must have read or heard about that episode."

"Yes, we have heard something about it, but to hear of it from your lips, sitting in front of you, that is an exceptional grace. Was it very painful, your stay in jail? The food and -"

"Yes, the first few days were hard. But it was not so much the mere physical difficulties of food and lodging, since these external problems had never really disturbed me. The hardship was psychological at first, though there was on

Page 157

several occasions some fun and enjoyment in the company of my 'boys'. Do you want to hear about my arrest?"

Cries of 'Yes, yes,' rang out from all sides, while Sri Aurobindo sat smiling.

"Listen, then. I have told you already, haven't I, how well I was sleeping that early morning after a long night's work, when suddenly the police barged in."

"Did they handcuff you?"

"Yes, and also tied a rope round my waist with which they pulled me behind them. But that was later removed at the insistence of the Moderate leader, Bhupen Basu."

"Why don't you start the story from the beginning? Why did the police suddenly decide to arrest you?"

"It was not sudden at all. They had suspected all along that it was I who was the leader of the Revolution. Only, they lacked sufficient proof to be able to arrest me. But after the bomb explosion at Muzaffarpur, they grew desperate. They decided to arrest me, proof or no proof.

"So there I was, that morning, at my table in the Bande Mataram office, when I received a telegram announcing the explosion of the bomb at Muzaffarpur which had killed two Englishwomen. The Police Commissioner then announced in the papers that he knew who the culprits were and that they would soon be arrested, though I had no idea at the time that I was their target. And so, that day while I was enjoying a most peacefully innocent sleep, my sister ran in, terrified, and woke me up. I opened my eyes to find my small room filled with red-turbanned police. One of those brave fellows, the Police Superintendent, was even pointing his pistol at my sister's breast. I sat up, my eyes still heavy with sleep. The Superintendent curtly asked me, 'Are you Aurobindo Ghose?' The moment I answered 'Yes', he shouted, 'Arrest him!' Then he continued, 'Aren't you ashamed to live like this, you who have passed your B.A. examination in England? Look at this room! It doesn't have any furniture, not even a bed, you sleep on the floor....' I cut in, 'I am a poor man and I live like one.' The police chief

Page 158

was not very bright, maybe dealing with thieves and scoundrels had dulled his mental perceptions. He was unable to grasp the greatness of poverty. So he shouted, 'Is it because you wish to become rich that you have committed this crime?' I did not find it necessary to answer him.

"So they began to search my house very thoroughly.... It lasted from five-thirty in the morning, right up to eleven-thirty."

"Six hours!"

"Yes, they examined everything, notebooks and letters, poems, essays and plays. But probably they felt bad at not finding what they were looking for."

"What did they hope to find?" asked Kriti.

"What a silly thing you are!" broke in a small, irritated voice. "Guns, of course, and bombs...." (Laughter)

"How should she understand that? Girls don't usually think about bombs and bullets. Something rather interesting happened. There was a small box in my house, in which there was some soil from Dakshineshwar. The Superintendent thought, 'Aha! this must be some powerful explosive.' But after a long and close scrutiny he had to admit, disappointed, that it was nothing but loose clay."

"Why did you have this clay in your house?"

"Haven't you heard of the Kali Temple at Dakshineshwar, where Sri Ramakrishna had lived and done his Sadhana? It was there that he had his vision of the Mother, there that he used to converse with Her."

"Certainly we have. We have even seen films about him."

"Then you should understand about the soil. When the Mother gives you flowers, don't you put them away carefully?"

"Of course!"

"Well, soil and sand can contain powers just as flowers do. You follow?"

"Yes. And what happened after that?"

"I have written all about these things in my Karakahini."

"Books are not satisfactory because, if they raise questions

Page 159

in our minds, there is nobody to answer them. Whereas when you explain with the help of examples, everything seems so simple," replied Sita.

"So then, we were taken to the police station, and later to the lock-up. All the while, the police were trying their level-best to make me admit my guilt. They were ever so sweet in their speech and their manners, so full of good, friendly advice, believing that I wouldn't see through them! Anyone in my place would have done it. However, I needn't darken your little minds with details of their crooked wiles. The fact remains that I spent three nights in the lock-up."

"And didn't you eat or sleep?" asked Aditi.

"They did bring me a little bit of something, but it was absolutely inedible. And as for sleeping, there was the floor.

"In the morning, I found that there were a few others who had been arrested too, some of them as young as you. I guessed that they had been captured at the Maniktola Garden."

"Since the two of you - you and Barinda - were arrested on the same day, your family must have been awfully Worried."

"I suppose so. But I sent them a message asking them not to fear or worry."

"But didn't you feel any fear at all?"

"During the first few days, the mind was a little disturbed, though I wouldn't call it fear. At that time I was still not quite aware of what the Lord intended for me. Feeling hurt, I complained to Him, 'Why did You allow me to be locked up in jail on false charges before my work was finished?' On the third day came the answer. An inner voice told me, 'Be patient. You will soon find out.' The mind grew quiet and the trust returned. I was then taken from Lalbazar to Alipore and put in a small cell for a month. Solitary confinement."

"Even you?"

"Why not me? In the eyes of our colonial rulers, I was a dangerous criminal, do not forget that. You can't imagine

Page 160

how tiny the cell was, there was no window, just an iron-barred door. It would be more correct to call it a cage; in fact, it was worse than the cages reserved in the zoos for the wild beasts. Those are roomier, more airy. Men come and go, there is life and movement all around. I had none of those things. That men should sometimes go mad there is perfectly understandable. Later Sir Edward Baker, the Governor of Bengal, visited us in the jail and told Charu Dutt, 'Have you seen Aurobindo Ghose's eyes? He has the eyes of a mad man!' Charu Dutt took great pains to convince him that I was not at all mad, but a Karmayogi."

"And you stayed there for long?" asked Chaitanya.

"Yes, for a month. There were also very many other 'inconveniences', but I shall not go into them here. Let me only tell you that it was inhuman. We are so proud to call ourselves civilised human beings, but one who has been unfortunate enough to see what prison-life is will never be sure of that. Do you remember Ranade asking me to write about prison-reforms instead of political articles, when I was in Baroda? I had found his request quite ridiculous at the time."

"We would like to hear about your jail experience in more detail, please," requested Sachet.

"Then you should all go to jail, though I do hope independent India has radically improved the living conditions there!"

"We have seen prisons in the movies," said Udita.

"Were conditions there truly as barbaric as they depict?" asked Archan.

"They were certainly not any less barbaric. We were given two coarse blankets, prison-woven, in fact. They had to serve for sitting or sleeping on, in winter or in summer. A blackened rusty iron plate, and a similar bowl, which seemed to have been dug out of the bowels of the earth, served for both eating and washing purposes. If they were scrubbed for two or three hours, maybe they would shine a little. I regarded the bowl to be a representative of the

Page 161

British Civilian. Just as an I.C.S. man was capable of filling several roles, being judge, police officer and various other officials, so also my iron bowl. Sometimes it was used for my meals, at other times I drank water out of it, yet again I used it for my bath or my toilet. Can you imagine anything having such a multifaceted personality? Or fulfilling so many purposes? It could even be looked at as an aid in yogic discipline, since it helped one to transcend shame, repulsion and attachment. In many other ways also my life in prison could be described as a kind of spiritual retreat."

"Didn't the authorities feel any pity for you? They could at least have given you clean plates and cups."

"But the government did not consider Indians civilised enough, perhaps, or had not expected well-educated people to become their guests! What they wanted was for us to remain their slaves, eternally. And has anyone ever treated slaves with respect? Besides, the English are not known for treating their enemies with any gentleness or sympathy. Although, I must say, a few small concessions were allowed to me. For example, I was given a little extra water, so that I could have a bath. I was also allowed to walk outside my cell for a little while. I was even given a little milk."

"What was the food like?"

"Oh marvellous! Enough to put you far on the way of ascetic detachment. Coarse rice, even that spiced with husk, pebbles, insects, hair, dirt and other such stuff; a tasteless, watered-down lentil soup with a few vegetables, grass and leaves mixed in. And we received such treatment in spite of the fact that we were political prisoners. All of us came from well-to-do families. Some of us were even aristocrats; not one of us in any way inferior in blood or nurture to the finest of English gentlemen. But the government made no distinction between us and the other criminals. We were all treated alike. As a matter of fact, this helped me enormously. Whenever we were all together, I lived with the lowest of the low - murderers, bandits and thieves, eating and sleeping and suffering with them and I realised that we were all

Page 162

children of the same Mother. Not just I, all the other boys too felt the same, and they cheerfully ate that disgusting food day after day. I remember how the father of one of the youngsters, a zamindar, wept when he came to visit his son. And yet the boy, who had been brought up on milk. and honey, now told his father that he was perfectly happy with whatever he was given in jail."

Sudeep said, "We often complain about the food served in the Corner House. But we shall never again do it - after hearing your stories." The other children agreed.

"Actually it is the psychological suffering that is hardest to bear, that can even drive one mad. Compared to it, problems about physical comfort seem quite insignificant."

"But you never felt disturbed, mentally, did you?"

"Of course I did, at the beginning I was quite troubled. That is what I am saying. God has made me undergo all sorts of travails and difficulties. But His infinite Grace that never left me always showed me the way out of them. I have already told you about the Lalbazar Police Station. Again, when I was locked up in that small cell in Alipore, my mind was in turmoil. Perhaps if I had had books to keep me company, I might have suffered less."

"Weren't you allowed books even?" enquired Bittu.

"For that I needed the permission of the government authorities first, and getting it took me some days."

"We have been told that Sri Krishna Himself instructed you to read the Gita. Is that so?"

"That is so. But it would have been so much easier if he had provided me with the book, along with his instructions. However, while I waited for the Gita to be given to me, I realised fully the difficulties of an absolutely solitary confinement. Even men who are strong and wise may lose their minds in such isolation. I also realised that the Lord, in His infinite mercy, had provided me with a perfect opportunity to turn to Him and to unite myself with Him."

"You have been referring to mental suffering. Does the mind really suffer?"

Page 163

Sri Aurobindo said with a smile, "You know what physical suffering is, don't you? Fever or toothache? Well, just as the body has aches and pains, so does the mind. You don't understand what I mean, just now, since you are all too young still to have a mental life. But all the same, imagine yourself shut up in a room, completely alone. No one to talk to, not even a story-book, nothing at all to help you pass the time. You will then find yourself in a state of acute mental suffering. All kinds of thoughts will come to torment you without your being able to stop them from approaching you."

"I know what you mean. I went through something like that once. I remember being rather upset, and so I thought that if I went to bed early, I would forget my problems. But the moment I was in bed, thoughts started whirling in my head so violently and fast that I felt I was going crazy."

"Exactly. Busy as we are most of the time, with work and people, we fail to realise the power of solitude. And then there is a great difference between being alone by choice and a solitude that is forced upon you."

"Why is that so?" asked Anand.

"Well, when one chooses to be alone, one can obviously also choose not to be alone any more, don't you see? Books and friends can replace the silence that surrounds one. Whereas when solitude is imposed on a person, this is not the case. According to the proverb, one who can stand solitude is either a god or a brute; it is a discipline quite beyond the power of men. Only then did I realise how hard a condition it is to bear, even for one who is accustomed to the pursuit of yogic discipline. The Italian regicide Bressi was sentenced to seven years' solitary confinement. The poor chap went raving mad by the end of the first year."

"But then what about the Yogis who live alone in the Himalayas?"

"Put them in prison and then see what effect that has on them! I don't mean that there are no Yogis who can stand solitude. In fact, I myself arrived at that state, later. But not

Page 164

in the early days. Anyway, if a person is to survive such isolation, he has to be a Yogi."

"How did you spend your time?"

"At first I decided I would meditate most of the time, but I found that I could not hold on to my concentration for more than two hours at a stretch, after which I felt extremely tired, both in mind and in body. Then I began to ponder about various subjects, but that too did not last. There were neither people nor books for the mind to focus its attention on. I decided to dwell on the beauties and charms of Nature. But that too was hardly feasible, for Nature had reduced herself to just one single tree and a tiny little square of sky no bigger than a handkerchief! It was too joyless a scene to bring me any kind of comfort or consolation. Almost in despair, I began to look around me when I found some big black ants on the floor. So I began to spend my time observing their comings and goings. La Fontaine too, it is said, enjoyed studying the movements of ants, but he did so out of pleasure and not out of necessity like me. Then I noticed some small red ants. The black ones stood in their way. What a battle ensued! The reds were no match for the blacks and were being killed in such large numbers that I began to feel sorry for them. So I went to their rescue. Don't laugh at me, but - "

"No, no, I am not laughing. I am really surprised," put in Kriti.

"At the way an educated person like me could behave, isn't that so?"

"No, it's not that. I am only trying to understand why God made you endure so much hardship."

"His ways are never easy to explain. We'll come to that by and by. Only remember always, that He in His infinite mercy can even make use of pain to express his marvellous compassion. As you can well understand, it was not possible to be too long engrossed in ants. I knew I had to become much stronger, inwardly. I remember how often I used to enjoy solitude and meditativeness earlier, and yet here was

Page 165

I, finding it so difficult to come to terms with solitary confinement. With all my heart I called out to God to help me. The selfsame instant I experienced serenity spreading through my troubled being, a peace and a quiet happiness such as I had never known before. I felt secure and protected, for I knew that the World-Mother was holding me safe on her lap just as a baby is held in the warmth and love of its mother's arms. All my suffering had been wiped out, it was as if it had never been. And from that day onwards, God gave me the power to feel joy and strength in the heart of every circumstance, however difficult, be it physical or psychological in nature. The difficulty seemed henceforth like a drop of water on a lotus leaf, at once slipping away. Later, when I was permitted to have books, my need for them had greatly diminished. I could very well have done without them."

"Is prayer so effective? If so, you should not have waited so long and suffered so much before you prayed to God!" suggested Rinku.

Sri Aurobindo answered smiling, "Quite true! But then one does not turn to God until one finds oneself in the direst straits. The human intelligence is rather proud of itself, you know. Only when all else fails does one remember God, even the God-hater and atheist call out to Him then. But don't you have faith in the effectiveness of prayer?"

"I do, of course I do. I remember one night after I had eaten something bad, I was tossing about in bed with a terrible stomach-ache. Unable to bear it any longer, I called Out to the Mother. Suddenly I heard a voice - 'Be quiet, lie still.' Someone seemed to hold me down on the bed and within minutes I was fast asleep."

"So, there you are. You have the proof. It may be a small incident, but it shows you undeniably that prayer can be miraculously powerful. If you can pray to the Divine with your whole self, with mind and life and body, you can achieve the impossible. A call of this sort will bring Him close to you in an instant. I remember one such incident. A

Page 166

cousin of mine was ill with a very virulent type of typhoid fever, in days when illnesses like typhoid and pneumonia and T.B. were considered fatal. The doctors had given up hope, saying that there was nothing they could do. Finally it was her family's prayer alone that saved her. Nowadays, of course, one doesn't need to depend only on prayer to save people from such illnesses, there are medicines enough to cure them."

"Did you find out what it was that God intended for you?"

"Firstly, he wanted to make me aware of how weak and troubled my mind could be, in order to make me decide to conquer that defect once and for all. For, to the true aspirant or Yogi, it makes little difference whether he lives plunged in solitude or in the very heart of a multitude. And once I had realised this, I knew that even if I had to live alone for twenty years, I would not be perturbed. Secondly, I also understood that my Yoga would not be achieved by my own efforts but rather through faith and surrender, that a complete self-giving alone made all spiritual realisations possible, that all I needed to do was to be ready to receive the gifts of His Grace - His force, His knowledge, His delight. He made me aware of this by making me a detached spectator of the play of madness that He unfolded gradually in my own mind. For this, He had put me within the solitary confinement of the prison instead of letting me go astray, swept away by the life of the ordinary world.

"After these realisations, I grew stronger. I also learned to feel greater love and compassion for those who are made to suffer the cruel torments inflicted by their fellow human beings. I learned too of the miraculously successful effects of sincere prayer. There were, in fact, many more lessons that I learned. The Divine can fulfil so many aims through one single stroke of His Will, because His force is never blind. In fact, He is all-wisdom. It is we who, in our ignorance, call Him cruel and unjust, even foolish! That reminds me of a story about my grandmother. She said: 'God has made such

Page 167

a bad world! If I could meet Him I would tell Him what I think of Him!' My grandfather said: 'Yes, it is true; but God has so arranged that you can't get near Him so long as you have any such desire in you!' " (Laughter)

---

"Did you really answer the sadhaks' letters all through the night?" asked Mandakini.

"For six or seven hours, regularly, year after year."

"But why did you have to write so much?"

"Because at that stage of the Sadhana, it was very necessary. Just as, now that you children are here, it is necessary for the Mother to see to your food, your health. Doctor Nripen says, 'Give the children more vitamins.' Pranab asks for more exercises, also for eggs, meat and fish, sometimes even a picnic or two. Pavitra and Sisir ask for a school and for Knowledge! (Laughter) And there is a great deal more. All these have to become part of our Sadhana. So, you see, the problem is not so simple. The Mother has so much more work now, so many more responsibilities. She has truly become a human mother. She has to organise everything, look after everyone, give chocolates to some, fruits and flowers to others. There are quarrels she must pacify and tempers she has to cool. Am I not right? Of course, all this seemingly surface business has to be tackled with the inner yogic consciousness. All has to be an offering to the Divine - and now there is the varied crowd of apparently ordinary things of life to be woven into the spiritual practice. I have always called my path the Integral Yoga and held that all life is Yoga, but now in a more extended sense this yogic integrality has to come into play."

"The Mother does so much for us, and yet why is it that we fail to realise the infinite and exceptional grace we are receiving from Her?"

"Now your asking me this question shows that you are aware of her infinite and exceptional grace. You should all

Page 168

try to be worthy of it, by putting in more and more effort at progress. Truths that you cannot realise today will become evident tomorrow. Even if all of you don't, at least some of you will perceive them. The Divine's Love and Grace alone can transform the world."

"Is it true, as some say, that if the Mother had notcome here, your Yoga would have remained incomplete?"

"Absolutely true. The Mother is the Shakti, and hers is the force that realises and manifests Truth. If she had not come here, neither would you all have done so. That is certain."

"Then it must have been preordained that she would come here and that we too should follow suit?"

*

Sri Aurobindo asked, "Have you read the speech I made at Uttarpara?"

"Yes, we have."

"Then you should have known what was the real reason behind my imprisonment. It was the Divine who drew me away from the political field to keep me secluded in a prison cell. I have told you that."

"But we thought it was the government that arrested you."

"That is how it seemed, on the surface. We do not realise how complex human lives are, to how many forces they are subjected. Anyway... I alluded to that speech because in it I have said that it was Sri Krishna who took me to jail where he told me that He would prepare me for his special Work. Then, giving me the Gita, He asked me to practise the Yoga of the Gita. He also gave me the power to do so."

"How did He give you the Gita?"

"Why? Doesn't the Mother give you fruits and flowers in your dreams? They do not have to be material objects, do they? In the same way, Sri Krishna's gift to me was on the subtle plane."

Page 169

"What is the Yoga of the Gita?"

"To work for the Lord, without any thought about the fruits of the action. It is the same thing that you are expected to do here: at all times, in all ways, in your studies and in your actions."

"The Mother too has practised the Yoga of the Gita, has she not?"

"Of course. The same Force which used me guided her."

One of the children asked: "What was the work God had reserved for you? Was it Yoga and Sadhana?"

"Those are the means, not the aim. The purpose was to revive the Sanatana Dharma, the Eternal Religion, the ancient Hinduism, and by it to reawaken the entire human race. India has always nurtured this ideal, the very law of her being has been to bring about the spiritual welfare of mankind. God made me realise the central truth of Hindu religion. He even changed the attitude and behaviour of the prison authorities towards me, so that I was allowed to stroll in the open courtyard outside my cell - in the morning for an hour or more and in the evening for fifteen or twenty minutes. The prison doctor and the superintendent and his Bengali assistant, who had been always quite sympathetic towards me, made it a point to come and see me every day and exchange a few pleasant civilities. In fact it was the Irish doctor who had made it possible for me to take those walks. These moments were very precious to me. As I walked I would recite the deeply moving, immortal, powerful mantras of the Upanishads, those profound verses filled with deep luminous thought and vibrant rhythm. I could actually feel myself penetrated by their power! I always sought to experience the truth they expressed - that all here is the Lord, sarvam khalvidam brahma, everything is indeed the Brahman."

"Can one seek to experience these truths?"

"Why not, so long as they are sincerely sought for? And one day my efforts bore fruit, I did realise those truths. Then I found that I was no longer surrounded by the walls of my

Page 170

cell, but by the arms of Vasudeva. When I walked under the tree in the yard, it was not a tree any more but Sri Krishna who spread his cool protective shade over my head. The guards and jailors had become Vasudeva, the very door, the bars on the window, all were none but Vasudeva. When I lay on the coarse blanket it was the embrace of Sri Krishna that I felt, the arms of my Lover and my Friend. In the thieves and murderers of the prison I discovered the same Vasudeva, the same Narayana. The love, kindness and humanity shown to me by those men had earlier not only overwhelmed me but also embarrassed me. I am particularly reminded of one of them, a simple peasant, a man of the unlettered masses, one whom we, in our blind pride, might describe as low-born. And yet he had seemed to me to be a saint and I had never understood how he could have been charged with robbery and sentenced to ten years imprisonment. A man who was so truly good could not be capable of wilful robbery. And about these people God told me, 'Look at these men. It is because I want you to work with them that I have sent you to prison. Try to understand the nature of this extraordinary race and see why I want you to awaken it and raise it up'"

"What did you gain from this experience?"

"How do you mean? Do you think of gain when you see God, even in dreams, standing before you? What would you think of?"

"Delight."

"Well, then, delight, absolute peace, love and compassion for all living creatures, all these came rushing on me. There also came the certitude of my release from prison.

"When, soon after this experience, our trial began and we were taken from the quiet prison to the noisy heart of the city, I was disturbed and shaken at first. Then God appeared again before me and said - 'Do you remember those early days in jail when you would so often complain to me about the lack of my Grace and protection? And now, look who the Magistrate and the Prosecutor are. Are they not

Page 171

Vasudeva?' Yes, indeed they were all Vasudeva, there was none who was not Sri Krishna. Smiling with infinite gentleness, He continued, 'There is no cause, therefore, for any doubt or fear. I dwell in all of them, it is I who am the mover and the Guide; my protection will never fail you. This trial need not worry you, for I shall see to its outcome. Besides, it is not for the trial that I have had you brought here. This case is but an occasion and a means. What I intend for you is something completely different.'

"All the same, I would often help my lawyer with my own ideas and suggestions. Perhaps because of the pressure of circumstances, he found that he could no longer handle the case. In his place came another, a most unexpected substitute, a dear friend of mine whose name you all know. He gave up ail his other work and responsibilities to take up my case. He worked for it tirelessly, night and day, week after week and month after month, even at the cost of his health. He was Chittaranjan Das. When he came, I felt certain that I need not give him any suggestions or advice. And the inner voice said, 'This is the man who will bring you your freedom - You do not need your papers any longer, for I will guide him, not you.' I grew completely quiet within, for the voice would repeat again and again, 'Remember why I brought you to jail and fear nothing, think of nothing else. No human power can alter what I have willed.'

"In the meantime, He brought me out of my solitude. I rejoined the young men who had been arrested along with me. In their company I felt humble, as well as happy. I had often been praised for my selflessness and patriotism, but now I found that these boys possessed a courage, a strength and a capacity for self-sacrifice far greater than I did. Indeed it appeared that I had much to learn from some of them. Then again I heard the voice speak, 'These young men represent the types of the great new race that will inhabit this country. In no way are they weaker or lesser than you. If today you forget or move away from the path, yet shall the work continue, these are the ones who will carry it forward.

Page 172

But you have been specially selected to harbour my Force, to raise this fallen race with the power of your Speech.'

"In fact, it was true. They were all exceptional, those boys. How they loved fun and laughter, those so-called terrorists and killers! There was no trace of fear in them, they were ready with a smile to mount the gallows, if that was what was required. They did not feel the least worry about the future, or even about the outcome of the case. They were on good terms with everybody, friend or foe, prisoner or guard and even the Englishmen. In the court, while the trial was on, some of them sang songs while others read books, even while their fates were being decided. They were not concerned about whether they were going to be hanged or deported for life to the Andamans or sentenced to hard labour. I would marvel at them and say to myself that since the motherland had sons like them, freedom could surely not be long in coming. Watching them, I realised that God had indeed proved to me that He was creating a new race of men."

Everybody was listening to Sri Aurobindo in rapt silence. When he finished speaking, the children seemed to return to the outer consciousness from some deep meditation. Quietly they filed out of the room, their heads bowed.

*

Today Sri Aurobindo began on his own:

"Yesterday I spoke to you about the young men of the New Age. Now, when I look at you, I feel that you are children of a still newer age. Many of those same young people must have been reborn in you in order to participate in the Mother's work."

"But we don't feel anything!" admitted two or three children.

"How can you? You have not yet had either the time or the knowledge to understand anything about the past or the future. But whoever has the vision can see in you the seeds

Page 173

of a new life, a life that is not content with moving along the same old ways and rounds. The desire to know the Divine, to consecrate yourselves to His service, to awaken to a new Consciousness - these are all there in you. As they intensify, they will become more evident and you will become aware of them."

"Yes. Sometimes we ask ourselves - 'Who is the Divine? Can He be known?' At such times everything else like studies or games seems so insufficient. And then when we come to you, we feel a new enthusiasm, afterwards for days a deep joy fills our beings. But again the old heaviness returns, the laziness, the unwillingness to apply ourselves to our studies. All we love to do then is to have fun, and spend our time with our friends!"

"Oh, well! It's not so bad. Human nature, after all, takes time to change."

"But where can we get that power to change?"

"Didn't you just say that when you come to me you feel a new joy, a new force?"

"But we can't always come to you!"

"You don't need to, really. Whenever you call us with all your heart, we hear you and send the help, the strength."

"Is it true that in jail you said to Monada's father, 'Think of me'?"

"I may have. I don't remember now."

"How did you spend your time there? Did you meditate most of the time, as some say?"

"If by meditation you mean sitting in one place with closed eyes, then, no. But it is true that I was doing my Sadhana. And you may say that in that one year the intensity of my spiritual discipline was equivalent to three years of rigorous Sadhana under ordinary circumstances."

"What kind of Sadhana was it?"

"It included the disciplines of different Yogas, such as Rajayoga, Hathayoga, Tantra and so on."

"Did Vivekananda come to you in your cell, as we have heard?"

Page 174

"Yes, indeed. It was really an extraordinary experience. I never knew him before that. Of course, I had read his books, but I had never met him and yet his spirit came to me in prison for two whole weeks. He spoke only on a special and limited but very important field of spiritual experience and ceased coming as soon as he had finished saying all that he had to say on that subject."

"Incredible!"

"It may sound incredible; but such things are not at all uncommon in spiritual life. Haven't you heard about the experiences the Mother had?"

"Yes, of course. We have heard that when she was young she used to see you, that you would often visit her?"

"And yet I, the outer Aurobindo, knew nothing about it. Many other beings also used to visit her. It was during my contact with Vivekananda that I got the first inkling of a passage towards what I have called the Supermind."

"Did he know something about the Supermind?"

"I can't say anything about that; anyway, he never mentioned it to me. I deduced from what he had told me that there existed something beyond the truths he was helping me to understand."

"If he had known about it, he would have told you."

"No, not necessarily. In fact, a Yogi rarely speaks about everything that he knows. Even if I were set to write for twelve years to express my knowledge, I might still keep something unsaid."

"But you must write everything! How else can we ever learn?"

"My answer to that is the same that I have been giving to your elders all these years. First read and understand everything that is already written. You're all so young. Perhaps you don't even know the names of all my books!"

"How did you acquire so much knowledge?"

"Through Sadhana and Yoga. While I was in prison, doing my Sadhana, the eye of inner vision suddenly opened. For instance, about painting - I began to understand painting,

Page 175

its qualities of colour and form and line. Also, I have already told you about the power acquired through Pranayama, haven't I, how it helped to bring down a flood of literary creativity."

"All these realisations must be boons you have received because of actions in your previous birth!"

Sri Aurobindo said, "That is typical of the orthodox Indian mind! Karma, everything is but a result of Karma! In that case, there is no use making any effort or doing Sadhana. Naturally, there is a past existence, a present one, a future one too. But if I had only counted on them and not on my own striving, could I have acquired any of these powers? Why need I have done so much Sadhana? The truth is that all Knowledge is lodged within man's being. Tapasya helps him to discover it, and later to spread it."

"Didn't the company of the other young prisoners disturb your Tapasya in the jail?"

"They were not there with me the whole year long. In any case, I used to sit in my corner, busy with my own meditation while they remained busy with theirs."

"Did they too meditate?"

"If they did, it was rather noisily done, often through loud singing! (Laughter) A few of them, though, did make some effort to concentrate on their Sadhana."

"We have read that they would often rope you into their pranks and jokes."

"Well, of course, now and then I did join in their fun and laughter. After all, they were my friends and companions, all of them were spending time in prison mainly because of me."

"Nolinida too was one of them."

"Yes, but he was very young, and I wasn't very well acquainted with the youngest ones there."

"Someone has written something about your hair."

"What has he written?"

"Since you had extremely shiny black hair, he asked you how you managed to oil it while they never got to see any oil!" (Laughter)

Page 176

"And what was my reply?"

"You replied to him that the shine was not due to oil but to Sadhana. Your complexion too was getting lighter, he had noticed. There is also a funny story that he recounts -

"There was a young fellow named Hem Sen who used to get biscuits and other eatables from outside. At night he kept these things near him, in spite of which they were often stolen. One night, a fellow named Abinash was stealing the biscuits but saw that you were awake! He quickly put some in your hand. You smiled and began eating them, lying down!" (Laughter)

Anshu said, "With 'all that terrible food that you have 'described to us, the biscuits must have tasted so delicious!"

"Oh, yes! and there's another story," chirped a little one. "It's about your meditation in Charuda's house, where you were staying as a guest. You had locked yourself up in your room there one day, and had entered into such a profound trance that though they almost broke down the door trying to enter the room, you heard nothing."

"But why on earth were they so keen to enter my room?"

"It seems you had asked for an iced drink earlier, and since the ice was melting rather fast they wanted to give you the drink soon."

"Oh! I'm told that Charu has many stories about me. He is the grandfather who carries a great big bag of stories with him! And like all good story-tellers he has a fantastic imagination, so don't believe all of them!" (Laughter)

Rahul struck a slightly plaintive note:

"But you never told us that most frightful of your prison stories."

"Which one?"

"The killing of Naren Goswami."

"But that has nothing to do with my life story!"

"But didn't you know that they were planning to kill him?

It was done for your sake, it seems."

"The boys did not tell me all their plans. In fact, Barin

Page 177

was their leader, but even he had not been told of this one, for fear he might try to stop it."

"But to have shot a young man in cold blood!"

"Well, it may not have been a very pleasant incident, but do you think there was any other option? If he had not been killed, he would have revealed everything to the authorities, many would have been punished, some even hanged, perhaps myself included. Instead, now only two of them accepted to be hanged. You know, in such things one can't be sentimental. If you begin to feel sorry for your opponent, then war-games are not for you. Yes, there are people who have condemned the murder and said that two bright young people gave up their lives to save one man. There have been many examples in history where people have died for the sake of their beloved leader. I hope, however, you are not followers of non-violence. Because, in order to uphold rightfully the ideals of non-violence, you ought to acquire first a power like the Buddha's. As for the fellow who sought to betray us, I knew him quite well. He even tried to flatter and cheat me. He was weak and cowardly.

"But the other two, Kanai and Satyen - they were so splendidly fearless, even accepting the hangman's rope round their necks with a smile!"

"Was the Judge a friend of yours who set you free because he knew you well?"

Sri Aurobindo answered, "He wasn't exactly a friend.... It's just that we used to study together. We had even sat for the I.C.S. examination together. I believe I was acquitted because of lack of evidence against me."

"But everybody knew you to be the real 'ringleader'."

"That is not enough. In a court of law, one needs to substantiate statements with proof. They gathered a few hundred witnesses against me, a huge amount of material as evidence. They made the trial stretch over a whole year - something unheard of at the time, in India certainly, perhaps also in the world. Both the government prosecutor and the police tried their utmost to establish that I was the

Page 178

ringleader, as you say, and that I should be sentenced. But what can human intelligence and talent avail against the Divine's Will? He had already decided upon my acquittal. Beechcroft merely passed the order for it."

"Chittaranjan Das displayed a brilliant and remarkable mastery of the law, did he not?" asked Rahul.

"Absolutely. The Lord made him His instrument. Anyone with the least vision and perception could see a spiritual Power at work behind him. Of course that doesn't mean that he did not have to apply himself. On the contrary, he worked night and day on the case, after having given up all other commitments. He plunged into the study of innumerable books of law, pondering and studying situations and solutions."

"Then how can one say that it was the Divine who won the case?"

Sri Aurobindo replied, "I see you have an extraordinary notion about the Divine and His Power! According to you, all one needs to do is to lounge in one's armchair and the Lord will drop the fruits of success right into one's lap, isn't that so? (Laughter) Well, the Divine doesn't usually go in for such dramatic miracles, although those who obtain unexpectedly wonderful results, far beyond the scope of their efforts, often realise that nothing but the Grace could, have brought them such success. The true worker knows to what extent he himself is the author of his success and what help another Power has given him."

"That last speech C.R. Das made was magnificent. It was prophetic too, since everything he said then has come true, to the smallest detail."

Sri Aurobindo smiled a gentle smile.

"Is it true that he came here for your darshan?"

"Yes, he did. But his health was completely ruined by then, after long years of imprisonment which he underwent for the sake of the country. After Tilak, he was the only man who had the ability to lead the country to freedom. However, to come back to our story. After one year in jail, I

Page 179

found myself free, acquitted on all counts, a freedom achieved by the Divine Grace with C.R. Das as its instrument."

*

Sri Aurobindo, looking smilingly around the room, asked, "And what are we going to talk about today?"

Sudeep said, "About the way your political career came to an end."

"Oh, it ended in a dramatically sudden manner. I was obliged to leave Calcutta as suddenly as I had gone there. I had barely ten minutes to spare, and so there was no question of letting anyone know. I think I have told you that the Karmayogin and the Dharma, the two papers I was editing, were widely circulated, particularly the Karmayogin, so much so that the subscription rate for it had to be reduced by half for more people to be able to buy it. I am not sure whether it was this great popularity of my papers or of my speeches or even of my person that began to annoy the government. They seemed to feel that my pen had to be silenced for them to have the chance to govern in peace. It was obviously intolerable for them that I would, with my fiery words, have the power to destroy the order and superficial tranquillity imposed by their dictatorial ways. They were upset especially since a reaction of renewed violence was again becoming evident. According to the police, I was the friend, philosopher and guide of these young revolutionaries. In fact, though I was found innocent at the end of my long trial, the police always believed me to be guilty. I was not at all as good-natured as I appeared, this was the firm belief of everybody from the officials in London's India Office down to the police commissioner in Calcutta! They were waiting for the right opportunity to remove this thorn from their political flesh, and all that I said or did or wrote was constantly scrutinised. But they could not find any legal justification for removing me, and

Page 180

even the British government dared not take action without cause!

"However that might be, the government then brought Out a new set of reforms that seemed to give us much more freedom and many more rights - a move that was meant to pacify us. And it did. At least the Moderates seemed very satisfied and many of them even began to side with the government. I wrote articles sharply criticising those reforms. I described them for what they were - deceitful traps. Obviously, such writings could not please our masters. At that point, Sister Nivedita informed me that they were proposing to send me out of Bengal, a form of political exile, and suggested that I leave Bengal immediately, I asked her not to be unduly troubled on my account since I had plans of my own which would force them either to alter or at least to postpone their intention of deporting me."

"Were you in touch with Sister Nivedita?"

"You seem to have forgotten all that I have told you about her! She and I worked together for the country and its revolutionary activities, for articles in the newspapers and so on. On the other hand, she was on friendly terms with many of the government officials. That is how she was often the first to learn about the plans of the police. When I came out of prison, she was the first to honour me with a grand reception along with the students of her school.

"I wrote an 'Open Letter to My Countrymen' which was published in our paper Karmayogin, where I set down very clearly what our aims and methods were. I also mentioned that the methods would not go against the law. Sister Nivedita had the satisfaction of knowing that the government dropped its plans regarding me, at least temporarily, and I continued with my work. At first our Nationalist Party sought to arrive at some agreement with the Moderates, but failed. In the meantime, a young man shot and killed a high official of the police, Shamsul Huda, and the raids and arrests started again. Word reached me of fresh moves to deport me. I published in my paper a new set of articles

Page 181

which proclaimed that I had no hand in the recent killings that I did not even approve of them, but that so long as the government carried on with its repression such acts of violence would obviously continue. This too worked, for a while there was a stop to repression. Then, one evening about eight o'clock, as I was sitting in our Karmayogin office with a few of my boys, busy doing some automatic writing, there entered a young man, in a state of extreme anxiety. Hurriedly he told me that a warrant for my arrest had been issued, that a relative of his who worked in the Police Department had told him so. I kept quiet for a while, then I said, 'I shall go to Chandernagore.' "

"Why Chandernagore?"

"Because that was what I was asked to do, that was the 'adesh'."

" 'Adesh'?"

"Ever since my meeting with Lele, all my decisions were made for me by God. I received all my advice and indications, whenever they were needed, from above, and I obeyed them implicitly. They were really commands, so absolutely powerful in their nature that they were not to be denied. Later, when I left Chandernagore for Pondicherry, that too was by a command, an 'adesh'.

"I left the Karmayogin office and within ten minutes found myself on the banks of the Ganges. A couple of boys came with me, one of them led me down to the river bank through dark lanes and bylanes in order to avoid the attention of the police, the other walked a few metres behind us. Quickly we reached the bank and hired a boat. The three of us sailed down the river all through the night and very early in the morning, before day-break, we reached Chandernagore. One of the members of our Party lived in that town, someone who had also been to jail with me. I informed him of my arrival and asked him if I could put up at his place. Instead of giving me shelter, he sent me a sarcastic reply, asking me to go to France."

"Why did he do that?"

Page 182

"Out of fear."

"Was it expected that he should help you?"

"Yes, because all the members of our secret Party had made a vow to help one another in times of trouble."

"So what happened then?"

"I was sitting quietly in the boat with the absolute certitude that some way would be found. It was God's Will and His Will is always done. A little while afterwards came a gentleman who, having heard of my predicament, took me to his own house. I did not know him, had never met him, though he was a revolutionary. But he had read my writings and heard me speak at various meetings. Motilal Roy welcomed, me without hesitation into his home on condition that no one else, no second individual, should learn about my stay there. I asked the boys to request Nivedita on my behalf to take up the charge of editing the Karmayogin. They left me in Motilal's care and returned to Calcutta. Except for her and two or three of my boys, no one knew ; of my whereabouts."

"How did the police fail to find out about you, in spite of keeping such a close watch over your movements?"

"Never forget that there is a Force greater than that of any police or government. It is the Divine's. He whom God protects, no man can touch. When the 'adesh' was given, all the arrangements for fulfilling it were made. Haven't you read in the Gita how Sri Krishna says, 'Surrender yourself to me and my Grace will protect you from all harm'?

"I stayed in my secret hideout in Chandernagore for a month. Then there came again another command, 'Go to Pondicherry.' So, with the same secrecy, I came to this far-off place. The police found it out only after I had arrived here. This is how my political life came to an end."

*

"Isn't it strange that though you were in Chandernagore

Page 183

for a whole month, neither the police nor anyone else ever found out anything?"

"You seem to forget all the time the fact that God had taken my life into His charge and it was His Will that I should go to Chandernagore. So, eager though they may have been to arrest me, the police obviously could not do so, Since such was His Will. You do believe that He is somewhat more intelligent than they are, don't you? Of course, that did not mean that, once there, I was free to roam about the town making speeches and attending political meetings. Evidently, I had to remain constantly on guard all the time taking every precaution so that nobody might find out about me. If you believe that just because God is protecting you, you need not follow any of the rules and norms of rational conduct and those that good common sense requires, you are totally unreasonable.

"I remained all the time indoors, though it was not always the same house where I stayed. During that month, I moved two or three times. But it was mostly Motilal Roy who looked after me."

"How did you spend your time?"

"Just as I did when I was in jail. If I could stay in a cell alone for almost a year, should living by myself for a month in a room be difficult?"

"But in Chandernagore, you had to stay behind closed doors night and day! Did you do a lot of reading?"

"No, I just sat quietly in my room. Sometimes when Motilal came with many eager questions about Sadhana, we would talk."

"So you were all the time busy doing your Sadhana? You sat with closed eyes and meditated?"

"To meditate with eyes closed is not my practice. I always meditate with my eyes open."

"Yes, yes, so we have been told. Could you please say something more about that?"

"Would you understand me if I did? Well, anyway, I was completely indrawn, totally unconcerned with all that surrounded

Page 184

me, with where I was or what I ate. Much later I came to know that the house I lived in was filthy, full of bats and cockroaches, but at that time I was not aware of any of those things. I was not really concerned with my comfort. What I required were solitude and secrecy, and I got both. I used to have wonderful visions then, see figures of Vedic gods who visited me in my hours of meditation. They brought with them strange messages, writings of which I tried to understand the meaning. I was in a state where my own separate existence or my own individual will had ceased to exist. Here 'I' - what one may call by that name - am talking to you but it is not I, I lift my arm but it is not I, when I eat or walk there is no I. Everything is the Divine. It is He who wills, who moves, who is all. I discussed some of these truths with Motilal and helped and guided him in his Yoga. Inspired by me, he later established a society which expanded substantially."

"Why did you leave Chandernagore?"

"I got a clear command to leave Chandernagore. You see I could not stay too long in the same place. The authorities were bound to find out someday and the police would certainly contrive to arrest me once again. Word reached me that some Calcutta papers had published the news that I had managed to escape to Tibet where I was now living with the saints and sages in the Himalayas, engrossed in philosophical and spiritual discussions!"

"Goodness! Really?" exclaimed Sachet;

"Didn't you know that, according to the Theosophists, very many sages live there, one of whom is Kuthumi?"

"Oh yes! You have a poem called 'Kuthumi'. Have you met him?"

Sri Aurobindo said, "No. That poem is pure imagination. In the end, our paper, the Karmayogin, had to publish an official denial of these reports about my escape to Tibet. It added that I was living in seclusion for spiritual purposes, and that for the same reason I was no longer working for the journal.

Page 185

"You know, human imagination is endlessly inventive. Take, for example, my going to Chandernagore. It gave rise to what an extraordinary variety of rumours! Some said it was Nivedita who finally decided, after long deliberation, that I should go there. Absolute nonsense! Apart from two or three people, nobody knew about my decision to leave for Chandernagore. We need not go into the other more fanciful versions and rumours. And again, so many colourful reasons have been given about my retirement from politics. One explanation is that it was due to fear of the police. Another states that I withdrew from politics because I failed to find success in that field. Well, if I had been afraid of politics I would never have become a revolutionary and I don't think success eluded me entirely! People who judge everything by outward appearances alone draw such superficial conclusions. To tell you the truth, by then I had left politics far behind me and was wholly absorbed in the spiritual life.

"My progress on the spiritual path had to proceed unhindered, and that is why I had to leave all political activity aside. But before doing so I had already had the inward perception and certitude that the lines along which I had been working for the country would end in success. I knew that the leaders of the next generation would be able to obtain that result, for which my physical presence among them was no longer necessary. It was not at all out of any sense of frustration or despair that I had retired from politics, nor had I 'escaped' from it. I left because there was a greater work awaiting me, to which God had called me. That was why I came to Pondicherry, though even that decision was not mine. Just when my friends in Chandernagore were beginning to worry about my future, anxiously wondering whether to send me out of the country, to France for instance, there came again that same command, - 'Go to Pondicherry'."

"How strange! And you, you had no plans of your own?"

"Haven't I told you that ever since my Vasudeva experience

Page 186

I had stopped thinking of myself or of my future? In fact this had started even earlier - since my Nirvana experience. From then onwards I had always followed the Voice of the Inner Guide. He took me to Chandernagore, brought me to Pondicherry."

"How exactly did you come? Do tell us! It must have been very difficult, since you were in hiding and Pondicherry is a long way off from Bengal! How did you manage to make the arrangement?"

"Since He had asked me to come here, obviously it was up to Him to make the arrangement! However, this is how it was worked out:

"The moment I was told, 'Go to Pondicherry', I asked to see Motilal. We discussed the matter and I suggested that he send there first a young Nationalist who had worked with me. Suresh, or Moni as we called him, was sent to Pondicherry straightaway so that he might make all the necessary arrangements for my stay there. In the meantime, my maternal cousin Sukumar, who was at Calcutta, was asked to prepare for our journey by boat to Pondicherry. Naturally, all these preparations were made in utmost secrecy. There were five or six young men whom I trusted fully and knew they would work things out as perfectly as possible. So there I was, once again crossing the Ganges by boat at night. We took a horse-carriage to reach the place from where we would embark for Pondicherry. But we arrived just a little late, that is to say, when we reached there, we saw that the British doctor had left. The doctor had to give every passenger a health certificate after examining him, only then could the passengers sail. So we had to rush to the doctor's house. There were four of us as well as a porter whom we took along with us because he swore that he knew where that doctor lived. He had also added that he was a very good friend of the latter's servant who was sure to help us to meet the doctor. We had to hurry and get the doctor's certificate before the ship sailed and yet everything had to be discreetly done so that the police might get no wind of it. So there we

Page 187

were, riding in the carriage to the doctor's house, my friends growing more and more apprehensive by the minute, while I sat beside them, calm, undisturbed. We reached the house and while we were waiting in the verandah, the porter went and told Nagen, 'Is that Babu of yours frightened? I guess he has never been near an Englishman before! (Laughter) Tell him not to be afraid, doctor sahib is a good man!' Then he quickly came to me and whispered softly, 'Babu, why are you afraid? The sahib is a very good man, you don't have to be afraid.' And as he spoke, he took hold of both my arms and shook them as if to make me alert. The three young men enjoyed the whole episode, exchanging amused glances and laughing to themselves. And I too laughed.

"Hardly a moment later, the servant came and called me. Bijoy and I went in. I told the doctor that I had recently had a bout of malaria, and that I very badly needed a change of air. The gentleman was very impressed by my English accent and asked me where I had been educated. When he heard that I had been brought up in England, he was so pleased with me that he gave me the necessary paper. He never realised that I was Aurobindo Ghose, the revolutionary for whose capture the government had spread a net far and wide. It was ironical, wasn't it, that an Englishman should help me to escape that net just because I spoke with such a fine English accent!" (Laughter)

"But didn't he recognise you by your name?" "Do you think I went up and introduced myself to him, saying - 'Here I am, Aurobindo Ghose!' Isn't such saintliness too much to expect in this Kaliyuga of ours? Actually, there is one particular rule that all revolutionaries follow - one never reveals one's name. I had been a revolutionary leader for so long, yet very few people called me by my actual name. However - "

"Then how did you introduce yourself to him?" "I told him that I was Jatindranath Mitra and that my friend , Bankimchandra Basak and I were travelling to Colombo!" (Laughter)

Page 188

"But...."

"You think it was wrong to tell an untruth? Perhaps... but can't you imagine what would have happened if I had revealed my identity? The doctor would have informed the police right away and, amid general rejoicing, the police commissioner would have clapped me in irons and led me back to jail. The next day's papers would have carried dramatic headlines, such as 'Midnight arrest of Aurobindo Ghose while trying to escape!' Isn't that so?

"Tell me, does it strike you as very strange that a Yogi should have taken recourse to falsehood? You see, there is such a thing as spiritual discernment, which is far above strict moral codes. And it is that which indicates what one should do or say in a given situation. It is true that the behaviour of a Yogi cannot be judged by the ordinary mind, which finds itself completely in the dark when it tries to understand such situations. Anyway, let me end today's story.

"We climbed back into the carriage, greatly relieved. It again sped towards Chandpal Ghat. It was almost eleven at night when it reached there. The four of us boarded the Dupleix, a French ship, and entered the reserved cabin. Bijoy made my bed. Amar and Nagen stood facing me, near the door. Amar gave me some currency notes, then they touched my feet and took their leave."

Kriti said, "I am so moved by your boys' concern for you." The other children warmly agreed.

"As I've already told you, I had sent Moni to Pondicherry to make all the necessary arrangements. I had given him a letter of introduction for Srinivasachari, a Tamil firebrand. Moni was a bright, intelligent young man and I knew he would surely manage things.

"At last on the 4th of April we reached Pondicherry. The journey had been uneventful. The Lord had seen to everything."

Page 189

"But weren't you supposed to go to Colombo? You said that...."

"That, naturally, was a red herring to put the police off the track!" (Laughter)

"So there on the deck were the two of us, Bijoy and I, on the lookout for Moni. Soon, to our relief, we saw him with another young man, approaching our ship in a boat."

"Why did they come in a boat?" asked Satya.

"You see because of the shallow water of the port, the ship had to anchor offshore. Soon they - Moni and the other man who proved to be Srinivasachari - joined us in our cabin. And after a cup of tea, the four of us left the ship to be rowed back to the pier. Srinivasachari had arranged for a horse-carriage which drove us to a big and respectable place: a three-storeyed building. I went up to the third floor and found the place neat, clean and uninhabited - just what was required.

"Later on I learned that when Moni contacted Srinivasachari to fix a house for me, the latter wouldn't believe that I was coming here."

"Why didn't he believe Moni?" asked Archan.

"Because Pondicherry being such a small, politically isolated place, what would I, a national leader, do there? (Laughter) But Srinivasachari promised all assistance. Moni explained that I would be arriving by steamer on April 4th and the first need was a house for my stay. Srinivasachari gave his assurance that this would be done. However, two days passed and he did not seem concerned! After much prodding Moni was at last shown a miserable garret in a house at the end of a blind alley in a particularly dirty part of the town! Poor Moni failed to persuade Srinivasachari to arrange for something better. Then, to add to his dismay, Moni learned that they were planning to give me a rousing reception on my arrival, with garlanding and speeches - all in the best tradition! Moni pointed out that I was travelling incognito to escape the attention of the police, and to give me a public reception would defeat my very purpose. Then

Page 190

to his great relief they dropped the idea!"

"But I haven't followed one thing - you said that Moni had been shown a miserable garret in a dirty area, so how come you were taken to a big, respectable three-storeyed house?" asked Rohit.

"Oh yes, we too were wondering at the same thing," said some of the children.

Sri Aurobindo answered, laughing, "Well, that is exactly what I'm coming to.... You see, I told you that Srinivasachari did not believe Moni's news of my coming here. He thought Moni to be a police spy; to put him off, he showed him the miserable garret and not the big respectable house! So when we were led to the big nice house, Moni was wonder-struck!

"As I was telling you, the house, which obviously belonged to one of the wealthier citizens of Pondicherry, was a very fine one and very convenient for me in every way, except for one thing: the bathroom was on the ground floor."

"Shankar Chetty's house, wasn't it? We've seen it. We were told that Vivekananda too had lived there for a few days."

"We lived there for six months and I never stepped out of it, not once. I didn't let Moni and Bijoy go out either, not for three months."

"But why?"

"Because of the police."

"But then, what about your food? How did you manage to eat?"

"Srinivasachari had arranged for two young boys to look after us, and their only business was to see that we lacked for nothing. Of course, Moni and Bijoy did the actual cooking. There was also a maid who came to clean the house and do the marketing. All told, the days went by quite uneventfully."

"Didn't you find it boring with nothing to do all day?"

"I had so much to occupy myself with; there was my Yoga and there was my writing. Perhaps my two young friends

Page 191

may have found it difficult, although they too were made in a different mould and, besides, they were accustomed to hardship.

"For our amusement, the three of us would sometimes hold séances. You know what that means? We would call the spirits of dead people and have conversations with them with the help of automatic writing."

"Yes, yes, you used to do the same thing sometimes in Baroda and in Calcutta too. This is how you wrote the book Yogic Sadhan," said Aloka.

"The book was finished in a week. On the last day I thought I saw a figure that looked like Rammohan Roy disappear into the subtle world."

"How strange! What does that mean?" asked Chaitanya.

"It was he who was the actual author of the book. I was only the medium. That is why the book has not been published under my name. I wrote an Editor's Epilogue for it under the name of 'Uttar Yogi'.

"This name has a story behind it. Once, a wealthy zamindar came and met me in Shankar Chetty's house. He had been looking for me because when his Guru was about to leave his body, the zamindar asked him about the spiritual guide he must take for his Sadhana. The Guru said that a great Yogi would come here from the North, whose help he could take. Then lyengar, the landlord, asked him how he would recognise the great Yogi, as there were so many Yogis who came to the South from the North."

Bittu said, "I too had the same question in mind!"

"The Guru replied that the Yogi would come seeking asylum in the South, and he would be recognisable by three sayings, or three declarations."

"But how did he know that you were the Yogi?" asked Anirban, rather intrigued.

"Well, on enquiry, he found out that I had come to Pondicherry seeking refuge. Moreover the 'three sayings' were my 'three madnesses' that I had mentioned in a letter to Mrinalini."

Page 192

"Yes, yes, you've spoken to us about that letter!" said two or three children.

"How did he know about this letter?" enquired Rahul.

"You see, some of my letters to Mrinalini had been produced in the Alipore court, and this was one of them.

"lyengar gave me promise of economic help and, besides this, actually gave some money, in spite of the great risk he was running by helping such a 'dangerous man'! It was he who got Yogic Sadhan printed and bore the expenses."

"It is really amazing how this Yogi knew all these particulars about you!"

"There is nothing amazing in that if you accept the notion that just as there are books and sciences that help us know more of the world around us, so also are there methods, systems and sciences that help us acquire knowledge of the world within us.

"One of the interesting events of those early days in Pondicherry was a fast that I undertook for twenty-three days."

"But why?" enquired Sachet.

"Just an experiment. Scientists make experiments all the time. So did I. I wanted to see how long one could stay without food, and yet continue one's everyday activity; I even continued with my daily walk of eight hours. At the end of the twenty-three days, I didn't feel the least tired and I broke my fast by eating a perfectly normal meal, though usually one is advised to resume eating very gradually after a long fast. One begins with fruit-juice and then goes on to easier digestive solid food. That is what the doctors say."

"Then the doctors are wrong and they ought to change their ideas."

"No, they ought not because everybody is not Sri Aurobindo," broke in a small but confident voice.

Sri Aurobindo smiled and continued: "After that long fast, though I didn't feel weak at all, as I've already told you, I did lose a lot of weight. I found that there was nothing else except food that could give me a well-built body. So I began

Page 193

eating again. I also realised that food was essential for existence in the body, at least as things are at present. But it was clear that someday man could do without it."

"How can he?"

"The same way that I lived for those twenty-three days, carrying on with all my activity without feeling any fatigue or weakness. Since this was possible, I decided that there must be a means or method by which one could be rid of dependence on food. That should be successfully realised when man is supramentalised."

"But even what you did during those twenty-three days seems hardly believable. How did you do it?"

"I have often told you that this material universe is not the only reality, that there are many other more subtle ones, such as the worlds of life and mind. From these worlds you can draw strength or energy. Haven't you noticed small children, animals too, who are restless and active all day without feeling the least tired? This is because they draw their energies effortlessly from the vital planes. Have you understood something?"

"A little bit!" (Laughter)

"I have also spoken to you about my fast in the Alipore Jail."

"Please tell us again about it. We've forgotten the details," said Pavak.

"It was a period of intense yogic activity. I gave up eating, throwing away all the food I was given. Naturally, the police officers knew nothing about it, but the wardens noticed what I was doing. They told themselves that I was probably extremely ill and would not live long. I even slept only once in three days. All this made me lose almost ten pounds in weight, but my life-energy seemed to increase. I had no difficulty any longer in lifting a bucket of water above my head, which I could not do ordinarily."

"Jatin Das is said to have fasted for sixty days or more. Is that so?"

"Yes, and there are others too who have done the same.

Page 194

The papers were full of instances of fasting. But I wonder if they too continued with their work and their walks. At least, as far as Jatin Das is concerned, it was never mentioned that he did his usual work during those sixty days. It is surely less easy to keep the body active and energetic while one is fasting, than to remain in bed, immobile and passive."

"You must have tried out various kinds of experiments on your body?"

"I have, yes, of course."

Kriti, pointing to her friend, said: "She has a question." "Oh? I hope it isn't a very difficult one!" remarked Sri Aurobindo, amidst general laughter.

"No, no, it's just that I wanted to know what the officials of the government did when they found out that you had disappeared from Bengal. Didn't they try to look for you? They wouldn't have known that you had come to Pondicherry!"

"How surprising! This was just what I had planned to tell you this morning. In fact, it's a very interesting story. You know, it wasn't very likely that government officials, the Secretary of State for India, for instance, would rest by day and sleep by night after having heard about the disappearance of one whom they regarded as their biggest enemy! But they did not know where to begin looking for me, particularly since they believed all kinds of absurd stories about me. It was ridiculous how afraid they were. They considered my 'Open Letter to My Countrymen', which had appeared in the Karmayogin to be seditious and issued a warrant for my arrest. But since I wasn't to be found, they arrested the poor printer instead, and sentenced him to six months imprisonment. But when an appeal was made against that sentence, and the court set the man free, the pride of the police and the government received a big blow. Telegraphic messages criss-crossed the ocean between

Page 195

London and India. 'Where is Aurobindo? Has he been found? According to which law was the warrant for his arrest issued?' To which an upset Viceroy answered: 'No, Aurobindo has not been found. But he is said to be hiding somewhere in the city of Calcutta.' Soon afterwards, the police informed him that Aurobindo had probably gone to Pondicherry, though this was not yet ascertained. So again, in a short while, they announced, 'Aurobindo is here in the city, getting ready to leave for Paris with Ajit Singh. Send someone immediately to identify him.' Sardar Ajit Singh was another revolutionary."

"Really! How fantastic!"

"The government believed it anyway. It did not matter that no such notion had ever occurred to me, nor did I have that kind of money. They had to prove that they were not sitting idle, that they were very busily looking for me. They were also afraid that if somehow I did manage to reach France, I would go out of their clutches and would then find it much more convenient to carry on with my revolutionary activities from there. So this attempt had somehow to be foiled. Since every ship that sailed for France went via Colombo in those days, I was to be arrested at that port. So they finalised the arrangements with the Colombo police to arrest me there. Finally, they managed to discover the truth about everything, how I had left Calcutta under a false name, how too I had obtained the medical certificate, and all the rest of it. Only they believed that the name of my companion was Nolini and not Bijoy. But you see how well God had made all the arrangements for me. On the day the ship was to sail, the police were ready and waiting at the jetty to arrest the passenger 'J.N. Mitra', as I had called myself. But since I arrived late and then had to rush to the doctor's house for my medical certificate, they did not find me. They finally thought that I had decided to embark on another ship another day. They discovered their error later when they found out that 'J.N. Mitra' had indeed been a passenger on that very ship. They went to see the doctor

Page 196

with one of my pictures and he identified me. He also told them that he had been very impressed by my English! Since the police had no photograph of Bijoy, the doctor could not identify him, but the description he gave misled them to decide that it must have been Nolini who had accompanied me. Poor Nolini!

"The wonderful discoveries of the police did not end there. Next, they came up with the theory that I was planning to go to Berlin, not Paris, to join the Indian revolutionaries who were already there. Actually, I was supposed to leave on the 1st of April on a boat that belonged to the Lloyd Company, but I failed to find a free berth, so I couldn't sail on it. Someone must have made April fools of the police by telling them that I had gathered Rs.25,000 and left for Berlin! Whereas all I had done was to come to Pondicherry, not crossed thousands of miles to reach Europe. They also believed that if finally I had not gone to Berlin, it was because I had not managed to get the required sum of money. The police commissioner therefore sent warrants for my arrest at all the three ports - Bombay, Madras and Colombo. You see to what lengths they would go to catch just one man. How many plots and plans they laid for me, while I had surrendered the entire responsibility of my life and security into God's hands, and was resting at ease in Pondicherry, sitting on the tip of their nose, as goes the Bengali saying.(Laughter)

"At length, however, feeling sorry for them, I sent in November 1910, a notification to The Hindu politely requesting that paper to make it known to all those who were interested in me and my movements that I was residing in Pondicherry and that I intended to continue doing so. Since I had left British India to come to this French colony in order to do Yoga, I had cut off all political connections, and so neither the law nor the government had any right to brand me a traitor and a rebel and expect me to give myself up into their hands. Naturally if I had still continued to be active in politics, then it would have been a different matter.

Page 197

But ever since I had arrived in Pondicherry, I had taken up a life of spiritual seclusion, though there was nothing secret about it. A few French and Indian friends who visited me regularly could vouch for that. Many people in Madras knew the facts about me, so did most people in Pondicherry. I ended my information to The Hindu by saying that it was almost against my will that I was contacting them but that some people were spreading rumours about me for their own selfish ends, saying that I was still living in British India. I insisted very firmly that after March I had not set foot in British India, and did not intend doing so in future, at least not until I could go there freely and openly. If anyone at that time or at any time had anything else to say about me, then that person would be uttering an absolute falsehood. I made it very clear that for the time-being I had retired from all political activities and that I could neither meet nor correspond with anyone about political matters. I ended by adding that I would prefer not to go into the reason why I had left British India until the High Court had given its verdict as to whether my writings in the Karmayogin were seditious or not.... Did you follow anything of what I said?"

"Not all of it. But did the police accept the statement?"

"Ah! the police. Do they ever really believe the statements that are given to them? Particularly one coming from me was specially suspect. They had tried and tried, but had always failed to catch me. They kept a constant watch on me, on the Ashram, even on the visitors who came for the Darshans. Their spies used to hover around the main Ashram building all the time, pester with questions the visitors who came here, bothering them at the railway station itself. One of the good things that the Congress government did later was to free us from being harrassed by the police.

"Since we have been talking about the police, let me say all that, I have to say about the subject, before I close it - though it is not a subject that can easily be closed or put

Page 198

aside. Perhaps that is why we usually try to keep our distance from the police and the law courts.... The name we had given the British Indian police was 'The Red Turbans'. You will soon understand why we also considered them rather foolish. Even after reading my notification in The Hindu, the British government still refused to believe that I had retired from politics. To them, the words 'Yoga' and 'spirituality' were simply screens behind which I would continue with my political activities in secret. You see, every man judges the world by his own standards, sees himself in his surroundings. They read their own meanings in the fact that I had made French India my home, for they believed that from here I could send advice and orders and even weapons much more easily and safely to my former friends. I was indeed like a nagging toothache for the old British lion!

"So they hit upon a plan. A local rowdy, who was a wealthy political leader, was asked to kidnap me and take me back to British India in his car. But we got wind of this and my friends and companions started keeping watch over me round the clock. They even carried arms, for they had every intention of putting up a fight if and when anyone came for me. Of course nothing happened in the end. On the contrary, a warrant of arrest was issued in the name of the same political leader, on some charge. As a result, the man, afraid of being arrested, ran away to Madras. I was told that much later he repented for having made hostile moves against a Yogi!

"The next attempt that the police made was more subtle and clever. Instead of force, they now took recourse to guile. They sneaked into the house of one of my friends and threw a tin, stuffed with some forged documents, into the courtyard well. When the servant went to fetch water from the well, the box came up with the pail. The French police were informed. They examined the papers in the box and found them rather disturbing, for they seemed to implicate me and my companions in some conspiracy against the

Page 199

British government. So the chief of the French police brought several constables to our house in order to search it thoroughly. While he was busy doing so, his eyes fell on some papers on which something was written in Greek. He asked me if I knew Greek. When he found that I knew not only Greek but Latin too and several other European languages, he exclaimed in admiration 'II sait du Grec! II sail du Latin!' (He knows Greek! He knows Latin!) And with that, he reverently apologised."

"But why?" asked Pavak.

"You really are stupid," exclaimed the little questioner's friend. "Can't you understand this much? Since he is such a learned and wise person, he obviously can't stoop to such low tricks!" Sri Aurobindo listened to this answer with a smile. Then he added:

"The French are truly different. They have a great respect for culture. The police officer not only apologised but before leaving he even invited me to visit him at his office, so that we might exchange views on life and literature."

"Did you visit him?"

"Yes, of course, since the invitation had been so courteously extended. And it is useful too to be good friends with the police.

"The third attempt by the British police to capture me. took the form of temptation. Word was sent to me informing me that the British government would have no objection if I did decide to return to British India. In fact, they would be only too pleased to have me back and would let me live peacefully in a bungalow in Darjeeling, with the most picturesque surroundings. There I would be free to pursue my intellectual and spiritual activities as I pleased, and sometimes would even be invited to visit the Governor when he came up to the hills during summer. (Laughter) But I refused this very kind offer with a clear 'No, thank you.' "

Page 200

"Why did you refuse the British invitation?" asked little Sita.

"Because it was in fact a trap, silly!" exclaimed Rahul.

Sri Aurobindo laughed. "Exactly! They must have thought me to be really raw, knowing nothing of the world, if they believed that I would be taken in by their offers! And yet they considered me to be their very dangerous enemy!

"Once again the British tried to capture me, and this time it was more difficult to foil their plan. This happened in 1914, during the First World War. It was a time when great waves of revolt were sweeping across India. The Indian government took this opportunity to ask the French, their military ally, either to give up all political refugees into their hands or to deport them from Pondicherry. The French government felt compelled to suggest to us that we could go to Algeria, that all arrangements for our comfortable stay there would be made. We were also told that if we refused to comply with the offer, the British might take us away by force. On hearing this, the eminent Tamil poet, Subramaniam Bharati, who was present at the time said angrily:

'Since we are no longer safe in French India, why don't we go abroad?' But I answered very firmly, 'Mr. Bharati, I refuse to budge from here. You may do as you please, but I know I am perfectly safe here. This, and not Darjeeling nor Algeria, is the place of my work and my realisation, and here will I remain.' "

"Thank goodness you never went anywhere! How would we ever have gone to Algeria to see you!"

"Something else happened at the time, a rather ugly episode, with the recounting of which I will close that chapter of my life which dealt with the British government and its perfidy.

"We had then just moved into the Guest House. 1 have already told you that the British police pestered us wherever we went. Naturally, in French India, they were not dressed in the official uniform - that was against the law - they were mostly in plain-clothes. But they spied upon us all the time,

Page 201

keeping track of who came and went. Nothing escaped their attention, as they seemed to have set up watch just outside our house. Not only that, they were trying to find ways and means of coming inside. Around this time, a young man named Biren Roy joined our group, and one day he decided to shave his head. Moni, on seeing this, felt like shaving his head too - he was like that, our Moni, often quite impulsive. So there we were, one evening, sitting all together, the two of them with their clean-shaven heads, when suddenly, Biren shouted out loudly: 'I am a spy, a British spy! I can't hide the fact any longer. Forgive me, oh, forgive me!' So saying, he fell at my feet, as though I had forced him to confess. 'Don't you believe me?' he continued. 'Look, here is proof, here are a hundred rupees,' and he fished out a note from his pocket. 'Where could I get so much money if it were not from the British police? But I promise you I will never do such a thing again, and please, please, forgive me!' "

"Why did he confess so suddenly?" asked Amal.

"I didn't understand it either, not then, though I wondered whether he had felt any invisible pressure from within forcing him to own up his crime before me. But the matter became clear in a few days' time. There was a gang of spies waiting outside and he had shaved off his hair so that they could identify him. But when Moni too appeared without his hair, Biren believed that we had discovered his plot, and out came his confession born partly of fear, partly too out of genuine repentance."

Rohit said, "Hearing about all these innumerable ruses of the British to capture you, I am reminded of a Hindi couplet we learned in our class. Translated, it would be, 'Even if there are as many enemies as there are stars in the sky, if the Grace of God is on a man, not a hair of his head can be touched.' " All the children smiled warmly and appreciatively at Rohit for his apt quotation. Sri Aurobindo also smiled and continued, "There were other problems too that we had to face, but they diminished with time, particularly ever

Page 202

since the Mother came and settled down among us. From then onwards we received much more cooperation and help from the French government."

"Who looked after your food and your other needs?" asked Udita.

"There is nothing much I have to say about that, because it wasn't a problem we worried much about. Women, when they run a household, worry a great deal about how to work, but men are not like that. When men look after the kitchen, they put on the table what they can or have. You take it or leave it! Particularly, the young revolutionaries of those days were like that. They also knew that I was quite indifferent about the subject and that I would be satisfied with whatever was served. Do not forget that we were, all of us, wanted men. My boys were utterly penniless, and neither was I a Carnegie or a Ford. We survived mainly on whatever money was sent to us by friends and relatives. But since this had to be done clandestinely, we could not afford to live like lords. Ours was a simple fare of rice, dal and vegetables, and maybe fish now and then. But there were days when the boys would come and tell me that there was no rice left and no money to buy any more. I would only tell them - 'Well then, eat less. (Laughter) If there is no money to buy food, go on a fast. If you can't afford beds and tables and chairs, work on the floor, bear hardship.' In other words, we lived within the means that the Lord allowed us."

"Is it true that there was just one towel for the four or five of you?"

Sri Aurobindo replied, "If you have heard that one, then you have heard them all! Actually, I never found poverty frightening, neither did I consider it a desirable condition for the soul's progress. For if I had, then the Ashram would not have provided you with all the facilities and requirements of a comfortable daily existence, including games and even entertainment. We too would have saved a lot of money by turning you all into ascetics, monks and nuns." (Laughter)

"You may not have found poverty difficult to face, but

Page 203

one could not say the same about your friends, surely?" asked Chaitanya.

"Why not? They were not only sturdy young men, they were revolutionaries, accustomed to sacrifice and hardship. They had all gone to prison with me."

"But how things have changed now! The Mother has given us everything, we have beautiful furniture and lamps and - '"

Sri Aurobindo said, "Yes, the Mother's coming brought about a complete change in our life. Formerly ours was the life of the seeker after knowledge, the worshipper of Saraswati. Now it is Mahalakshmi who is manifesting herself through grace and beauty, abundance and joy."

"But there was no school in those days in the Ashram. So how could it have been a life that was a worship of Saraswati?"

"Indeed there was, at least a certain type of schooling. There was an imparting of knowledge, of the outer as well as of the inner truths. Also, I used to teach Nolini and Amrita. I taught them English, French and some other languages. We may not always have had enough money for food, but we certainly tried to put some money aside, every month, to buy books. In this way, we gradually built up a small library, hence the first house that we acquired was called the Library House. Nolini and the Tamil poet Subramaniam Bharati used to chant Vedic hymns with me regularly."

"Did people from the town visit you?"

"Yes, a few of them were, like me, political refugees from British India, and were already in Pondicherry when I came here. One of them was Bharati. I also remember very clearly another person. He was V. Ramaswamy lyengar, who was later known in Tamil literature simply as 'Va-Ra'. When he expressed a wish to meet me, I tried first to visualise him by my subtle sight. I saw a head of short-cropped hair, a hard face, a strong body. Yet the next day, when he came, he seemed a polished, cultured Vaishnava gentleman. But a year later he became someone

Page 204

who resembled my vision of him. This is called prophetic vision."

"How extraordinary!"

"I will end today's session by telling you about a great French scholar whose name was Paul Richard. He had come to Pondicherry from France on a political mission, but he started looking for a Yogi as soon as he came. And when he heard of me he wished to see me immediately. It was from him that I heard about the Mother. Richard was the person who established my link with her. Later, when he returned here with her, I met the Mother and, working together, we laid in time the foundations of the Ashram. Slowly, more and more people came to stay here. The Ashram began to grow like a huge banyan tree, spreading its branches in alt directions. At the present moment, here you are, sitting under its shade, listening to my stories."

"Now tell us something about the Mother."

"About the Mother? What would you like to know?"

"We are told that she started the Ashram. Why was there no Ashram in your time?"

"In my time, there were three or four boys who lived with me - a very small Ashram indeed! They studied and played games and looked after my needs, but as far as Yoga or Sadhana was concerned, there wasn't much of that. In fact, there was very little order or system in our life. I was mostly busy with my own spiritual life and hardly met them except at meal time. And, when we did meet for an hour or two, we discussed the progress they had made with their studies. It was the Mother who brought some order and discipline into this bohemian existence, and began moulding the Ashram into shape, an Ashram for those who wished to realise the Divine. Of course, that came about very concretely much later, in 1926."

"Was it then that the Mother first came?"

"No, her first arrival here was in 1914."

"How did she recognise you? Had she heard something about you?"

Page 205

"She was already far advanced in her Sadhana and during her meditations she used to see many visions and have various experiences. Sages would come to her to help and guide her, of whom I too was one, as she found out later. Finally, it was with me that she established the strongest link and she began calling me Krishna. She became more and more certain that someday she would meet me and that it was in collaboration with me that she would fulfil her life's mission. She even painted a portrait of her vision of me."

"Yes, yes, we have seen it. But...."

"Why but?"

"It doesn't closely resemble your physical appearance."

Sri Aurobindo explained, "Forms, as they appear in visions, are often not exact replicas of their physical counterparts. But she recognised me the moment she saw me."

"It was on the 29th of March 1914, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"We have read what she wrote after that meeting, in the Prayers and Meditations.''

"What did she write?"

" 'It matters little that there are thousands of beings plunged in the densest ignorance. He whom we saw yesterday is on earth; his presence is enough to prove that a day will come when darkness shall be transformed into light, and Thy reign shall be indeed established upon earth.' She wrote this about you. But how extraordinary that she recognised who you were at that very first meeting!"

"Nothing extraordinary in that. She had attained a high degree of spiritual development by then, had already had the realisation of the Divine."

"There are lots of other beautiful stories too that we have heard," said Sudeep excitedly.

Sri Aurobindo said smiling, "What, for instance? Today it is my turn to listen to stories." (Laughter)

"We have heard that, in 1920, the closer the ship in which the Mother was travelling came to Pondicherry, the more

Page 206

she sensed a great light emanating from the centre of the town and radiating in all directions, reaching her even across the waters. When she alighted here, the experience grew more intense, and upon meeting you, she realised where the light was coming from."

"And look at us!" said a plaintive little voice. "We come to you so often, but never see any light!"

"Become like the Mother, and you too will do so."

"I sometimes see a beautiful white light around the Mother," said Kriti.

The girl blushed as all heads turned to look at her.

"Yes, it is the Mother's light. You are fortunate indeed that from the very beginning you felt her and knew her for what she is, the Mother."

"Why do you say that?"

"Those who were with me during those early years, and saw her when she first came. couldn't do so. They understood much later, when they were told who she was. Until then, they thought that she was just a nice lady, while they were the wise and learned ones! (Laughter) It took them a long time to accept that though she was a westerner and a woman, she was an extraordinary being. Not only was she an accomplished artist and musician as well as being extremely learned, but she was, most of all, a Sadhika of a very high order."

"What did the Mother do then?"

"You want to know whether she too treated them with the same discourtesy?" (Laughter)

"No, no, not that. We want to hear more about what happened after she met you, where and how she lived, if she ate with you or if she worked anywhere."

"Oh! it was all so long ago, I am not sure I remember all the details. But I remember that she cooked very well - you must have heard that French cuisine is very famous - and she would often invite us all, much to the delight of my boys. (Laughter) So that was a change we all felt, since her coming brought some very tasty meals our way. As for the rest, you

Page 207

can ask Nolini, he will tell you. The main work she took up at the time was the publication of the Arya. It was largely by her encouragement, collaboration and help that the first issue got published in August, at about the start of the First World War. The Indian readers realised that I had not secluded myself utterly in silence and meditation. After four long years, my writings began to be published again, but this time they were not on politics, but on philosophy and poetry and so on. I was acclaimed a great philosopher. I had never studied any philosophy, though I had read Plato's Republic and Symposium. Of course, if you can call them philosophy, I had read the Gita and the Upanishads. However, after a year, the Mother returned to France - "

"But why?"

"Because the First World War had broken out." "Did you then know that she would return someday to work with you?"

"I suppose I should have known." "Why 'should'?"

"Because the reason and purpose why she was born on earth were the same as mine. Therefore, we would have to work together, otherwise our mission would remain unfulfilled. It is she who has given a practical form to my realisation, it is she who has created the Ashram. If she had not come, where would you all have been?

"I could never have given an organised form to your lives, never have been able to create all the educational facilities, physical and otherwise, for you, the way she has done, never have given you flowers, sweets and cards on your birthdays! All I could have done was write big tomes of which you would have understood nothing!" (Laughter)

"Yes, it's true," agreed Anubha smiling.

"Do you think you all have come here for my sake?"

"No, maybe not. But we do love you very much."

"What is it that you and the Mother expected of us? You didn't tell us that."

"It's not very easy to put it in a few words. Out of you

Page 208

pure and simple children we want to create a new race, a race greater than man's, which will be to man what man is to the ape."

"What will that race look like?"

"Maybe like the gods."

"I have never seen a god!" exclaimed Anshu.

"But we have seen the Mother and Sri Aurobindo!" replied Sachet.

Kriti said, "We asked Nolinida to tell us something about the Mother."

"So what did he tell you?"

"Many things very many things. All that you had said and more. You never told us that once, when the Mother had to go to Karaikal, she was obliged to stay in a filthy, dark, termite-ridden room!"

"There is so much that I did not tell you! Which is just why I asked you to see Nolini. But now tell me your story."

"We were a little afraid to go and speak to him, thinking that he wouldn't like to meet us. Everyone seems to be somewhat afraid of him. And, at first, he refused to see us. But when he heard that it was you who had sent us, he laughed loudly and called us in. We sat around him and he told us so many stories, so many lovely reminiscences of the olden days. We had never expected he would chat with us with such warmth and friendliness. He told us about the Mother's first arrival here, what he and the others thought about her, what your life was like in those days, the food you ate - oh! various things."

"All right then! Start relating those old stories, one after the other, each of you. I have forgotten most of them anyway."

Sampada began, "He said it was from you that he first heard about the Mother. You told him that a Sadhika of a very high order was coming from France to see you. He

Page 209

described to us, in very clear and simple language, the fear and nervousness that had filled him and his companions when they heard that. But to us it sounded very funny. He told us that since you had given them a great deal of freedom, they had gradually got accustomed to a mode of conduct and a turn of language that were far from being refined or courteous. They had almost ceased to care about all those socially acceptable details. They felt that if this French lady wished to visit them, she might do so, but her coming should in no way curb their freedom! Yet, strangely enough, that attitude gradually gave way to one of friendship towards her, of intimacy even, until she became the Divine Mother. But that was possible because you were there, and because of the Mother's own greatness. It was you who established her as the Mother. She taught them much, but there was one thing in particular which they learned and never forgot. It was something very deep that you had told them about. We didn't quite understand what Nolinida meant. You had said that you had never before seen anywhere a self-surrender so absolute and unreserved; and that perhaps it was only women who were capable of giving themselves so entirely and with such ease."

"Why should that be difficult to understand? When a woman loves a person truly, is there anything that she cannot do for him? Doesn't she lose herself entirely in him? Only to love and serve him and make him happy becomes the aim of her existence. In the same way, when we love the Divine, we offer ourselves wholly at His feet, just as the infant unquestioningly gives itself up to its mother."

"Yes, Nolinida also said the same thing. The Mother surrendered herself to you with the absoluteness of a child, he explained. It was as if she had known nothing, had heard nothing until then. Everything would have to be learnt from the beginning. And yet she was already such a great scholar. In France, she had studied the Gita and the Upanishads and had even translated some of them, and we also know how accomplished a musician and artist she was."

Page 210

"There was, too, something quite unexpected and very interesting that Nolinida told us. It was about the Mother. helping to set up a shop! She actively encouraged and helped someone from your group to start a shop. And on the day it was opened, you too were present there, though I can't now recall what it was called."

"The Aryan Stores?"

"Yes, that's it. But why a shop?"

"Well, just as today we have among us men of business who are devotees of the Mother and who act under her protection and guidance, similarly in that period also there appeared, as if in seed-state, this particular line of activity. The object was to bring in some money: we were hard-up in those days. All money really belongs to the Divine, although at present the hostile anti-divine forces have their hold on it. You can see for yourselves what misuse money is being put to. But someday wealth has to be won back from these hostile forces and used in the service of the Divine. This is the deeper significance behind the Mother's help to start a shop. Do you understand?"

"A little," replied Sachet.

"What else did he tell you?"

"Oh, many things, very interesting stories, but most of them happened much later, after the Mother had come for the second time, to stay here for good."

"Well, what's the harm in telling me some of them?"

"If we do the talking, then when shall we listen to you? At one point Nolinida cracked a joke; he said that the Mother once did a special Karmayoga with cats."

"Why should it be a joke?"

"Is it really true?"

"Someday I'll tell you how a cat used to come and sit with us during the meditation."

"Yes, that is what he said. At first there came a wild street cat which gradually grew gentle and tame and so pretty that you called her Sundari. (Laughter) Sundari had kittens, one of which was named Bushy. It was Bushy who used to leave

Page – 211

her little ones at the Mother's feet, as if asking for her blessings. Two of them grew up to become Big Boy and Kiki, and Kiki was the one who used to attend your meditations. She even had visions and experiences so that her whole body would begin to quiver. But Big Boy was not very impressed by all that and would often fight with her and beat her. (Laughter)

"And the cats were so well looked after, it was as if they were royalty! There was always milk as well as fish for them, and. sometimes you would feed them with your own hand. Nolinida said that the Mother had made a pact of friendship with the King of the Cats. In fact, all kinds of beings and spirits of the animal world and the vegetable world, as well as of the supernatural worlds, came to the Mother to beg favours from her. It all sounded strange, and yet so wonderful! We go and see her so often, she always smiles sweetly and puts her hand on our heads - but we could never imagine these things happening to her! All we know is that she is our Mother, and that is enough to make us happy."

"If you truly knew that, then it is all you need to know. Just be like the little kittens and put your trust wholly in her. That will see you through to the end. This is a spiritual truth."

"Nolinida did not tell us anything about the spiritual life. He said that another thing the Mother had taught them was order. Always to keep all one's belongings in order. But was that a very important teaching?"

"Didn't he explain?"

"Yes, he discussed with us how we keep our things, our clothes, our books and all our belongings. Everything is mostly in a mess, and when we need the least thing, we have to hunt for it in ten different places. So much time and energy are lost, and temper too, very often. He added that we hadn't learnt how to handle material objects, nor did we have any sense of neatness and order."

"Isn't, he right?"

Anand admitted, somewhat ashamed, "Yes, he is. Just

Page 212

yesterday, it took me half an hour to find a book!"

"Just look at the difference between the untidy, indisciplined student and the good one. The former throws down his books on the bed, hangs his shirt on a chair, looks everywhere for his keys. He has a very late dinner at night, wakes up in the morning too in the same unpredictable fashion. On the other hand, the other boy's room is sparklingly neat, such a pleasure to the eye! Compare the two further, and you will find that they differ even in their temperaments. The latter is quiet and patient, while the former is always restless. For you must remember that wherever there is beauty, harmony, order, there has Mahalakshmi stepped in."

"Yes, the Mother once said that she could tell the state of our mind simply by looking at our cupboards and drawers! She also told us something about you."

"Is that so? And - "

"It was that though you did not keep your things absolutely spick-and-span, you always knew exactly where each thing was. The things that the Mother uses always last long and remain beautiful, because she handles them not only with care but also with love. They have a life, a consciousness. She always treated her old things like old friends. In this context, Nolinida told a funny story. One day, a sadhak, kicking at a door that refused to open, badly hurt his foot. When he asked you for some ointment along with your blessings, you told him: 'If you kick at the door, the door will naturally kick back at you.' " (Laughter)

"But how can we know that Matter too has life, has consciousness?"

"Love it, the way the Mother does. Treat and handle things with affection, with care. Then they will respond, they will show you that they have life. Love can make them do that."

"Nolinida told us so many lovely stories, we learned so much from him. But he said he had many more which would take him ages to tell us."

Page 213

"Wonderful, then go and see him again. He is one of our oldest disciples. He has seen and heard much, learned much from the Mother. And now...."

"Now, please, resume your story. When did the Mother come back?"

"I know!" cried out Rohit joyfully. "In 1920, on the 24th of April. And that is why it is a Darshan day."

"That's it!"

"So, how did you continue with your work during the intervening five years?"

"After the Mother left, I had to shoulder the full responsibility of the Arya. The Mother used to help enormously with its publication; she would keep the accounts, see to the printing, keep a list of the subscribers and so on. I would do the writing."

"Which is something you do very easily! The moment you sit down to write, words pour out of your pen or your typewriter. Isn't that so?"

"Well, if it had not been so, how could I have written so much, since for six years the Arya was filled with my writings alone. And the subjects toe were so difficult that they have earned me the title of 'philosopher', though I have never studied philosophy! Actually, whatever I wrote was the result of my yogic experience, otherwise it certainly could not have been easy to write 64 pages of a journal every month."

"Really, it seems so incredible, when one thinks about it. We always believed that a great deal of thought and study is required before one can write. But for you the words just came pouring down and page after page was filled. It was as if the melted snows came streaming down from the Himalayan peaks of knowledge."

"All Knowledge, Peace, Light, Force are gathered above your heads, waiting to come down. Between you and That, there is only a lid. Remove it, and you will see how everything comes rushing down." .

"We really would never have believed this if it had not

Page 214

been you yourself who had told us. We have not heard of these things from anyone else before. Besides writing, was there any other work that you did?"

"Yes, and a very great work, that of Sadhana. A part of that work was to prepare for the Mother's coming, to remove all the obstacles that might hinder her coming."

"How could you do that, staying in Pondicherry? Is it not very far from where she was?" asked Sampada.

"When you are in danger or difficulty, don't you call for our help? Don't even those who live in far-off lands? And doesn't the help reach you?"

"Oh yes, it does!"

"Help is of two kinds, the outer and the inner. The external help is often expressed by money, for instance. But in order to understand the inner help, you have to go within, because it is of a subtler kind. Haven't I told you that even when the Mother was in France, she used to have the vision of many great souls who would help her in many ways? Such things and more are possible by the power of Yoga. For it was due to the yogic force that several people here, who had no poetic abilities earlier, suddenly found themselves writing poetry! These are all complex matters, you will understand them later."

"Didn't the Mother write you letters?"

"Of course she did! They were all about her Sadhana."

"Is it true that she fell seriously ill after she left Pondicherry? And that it was your Force that saved her?"

"Who told you so?"

"Our teacher," replied Anshu.

"Then why did you ask me how I could send my help from here?"

"Yes, true, I never thought of that!" (Laughter)

Another child now broke in, curious to know:

"Did you really stay in your room all day? You never went out, even for a walk or a chat?"

"I did go out to see people, but I never went for a walk; nor did I chat in the way you do. I was invited to two

Page 215

weddings in the early years, which I attended. I would also spend some time with my boys, or meet whoever came to see me.

"So this was how I lived during those five years. There were a few other things perhaps, that I may have forgotten to tell you. If anyone of you wishes to become a historian, maybe he would like to find out those details after doing some research."

"Why, what is the matter with you today? You are all looking sparklingly bright, as if bursting with happiness!" began Sri Aurobindo.

"We had been to see Nolinida again, and he told us many interesting stories. This time he seemed really happy to see us."

"Thank God! Nolini has come to my rescue! And what did he tell you, may I know?"

"He said that one of the first needs he and his companions felt on coming here was the need for books. They saw you much of the time absorbed in the study of the Rig Veda. They felt they could afford to spend Rs.10 every month for books.

"There were no shelves for them, so they lay stacked on the floor. A chair, a table and a camp-cot were there for you. And even the canvas of your camp-cot was torn, so that you had to be careful to sleep on the untorn side. As for your boys, they all slept on mats. The mosquito-net was a luxury they could not even dream of. If there were too many mosquitos, well, they had to take the mats out on the terrace! And he added that there were a few rickety chairs too, for the use of visitors.

"And light? Today there are electric lights everywhere, we are flooded with lights. But they did not even have a respectable oil-lamp or lantern. Nolinida remembers that there was one single candle-stick which was kept for your

Page 216

personal use. Whatever conversations or discussions they had after nightfall had to be in the dark; but mostly they practised silence.

"He also described to us the great joy they felt when they got electricity in the house. They had gone out one afternoon to play football, and it was dark when they returned. As soon as they opened the door and entered the Guest House compound, what a delight it was! The place was full of light - two lights downstairs and two upstairs!"

Kriti intervened, "We really feel so bad when we hear of all this hardship you underwent for our sake. Sometimes, lying in my cosy bed, or eating in Corner House all the delicious dishes we are served, I remember your prison days, and those early times in Pondicherry. It is a peculiar mixed feeling I have - either I have tears in my eyes, and I do not enjoy the food, or I relish all the more, in gratitude, what you have given us."

"And I remember ever so often these lines from the Mother's prayer:

Grant that we may never forget to own towards Thee a deep, an intense gratitude.
'Grant that we may never squander any of the marvellous things that are Thy gifts to us at every instant.' "

Sri Aurobindo was smiling at all the bright young faces.

"Nolinida told us about the funny situations that often arose between them and the servant, because no one really knew what the other was saying! There was a language problem, a communication gap! The boy used to do the shopping. Bijoy would say: 'Meen moon anna - fish three annas; illé, then nal anna - if not, then four annas.' (Laughter) Then there were the cooking sessions....

"According to Nolinida, the way of living changed completely once the Mother came and settled here. Even the relationship with you changed. She made the boys realise

Page 217

that you were the Guru, the Lord of Yoga. Until then, you had been a friend and companion for them, and such had been the relationship. Of course, deep down inside, they had always accepted you as the Master and Guide, but they treated you as a friend and almost an equal. Also, you yourself had never liked that they should use words such as Guru' or 'Master' when they spoke of you. But the Mother taught them both by her words and her ways what devotion to the Master signified. She was a living example of bhakti. When she was with you she would never sit on a chair. It would show a lack of respect for the Master. So she would always sit on the floor. It was indeed a lesson in ideal and beautiful humility. Once you said to them, perhaps with a tinge of regret, 'I have tried to stoop as low as I can, and yet you do not reach me.'

A small surprised voice now spoke up:

"Didn't Nolinida and others accept you as their Guru in those days?"

"Why should they have done so? I never wanted them to, nor did I want to start an Ashram either. All these changes took place after the Mother's coming. The boys had come here before she had, they had been my companions from my revolutionary days. We had worked together and lived together, and that is all that they wanted when we came here - to live with me, work for me, doing whatever I asked them to and studying whatever I taught them. This to them meant everything."

"Didn't they do Yoga?"

"They were too young for that in a regular way. It was more or less the same with them as it is for you now. Have you come to do Yoga, or do you want to, even? All you are interested in are your food and sleep, your play and your studies. But something is slowly ripening within. If someday you feel the need for a deeper spiritual life, then you will take to this Path. It was the same for those boys. My Sadhana was incomplete until the Mother's coming. She came and the Ashram grew around her, the Sadhana

Page 218

became more intense; higher realms and planes were revealed to my vision. Do you understand? This was the Ashram's most brilliant period. I will tell you more about it later. Did Nolini tell you anything more?"

"Yes, he did. He told us about how the Mother came to live in the same house as you," replied Vinit.

"Oh! What was his story?"

"He said that the Mother had already arrived for the second time, this time for good. She was at Bayoud House, the building just opposite our Library. You and the others were in the Guest House. Every Sunday you, with Nolinida and the rest, used to go to dine with her. The menu was decided by the Mother herself, and she supervised the cooking in person; she also prepared some of the dishes with her own hands. That is why Nolinida says they were really lucky to have a share in those meals. At that time, he added, they could only appreciate the physical taste of the food they were served. Today he realises what lay behind it.

"After dinner, all of you used to go on to the terrace overlooking the sea. You and the Mother stood aside talking. Sometimes they would request you for some automatic writing after dinner. And the writings that came through your hand were 'frightfully interesting'. Once somebody came and began to give an analysis of the character of each one there. Someone suggested that something might be given about the Mother. But she immediately protested, 'No, nothing about me, please.' At once your hand stopped moving.

"As regards the Mother's moving out of Bayoud House, this is what Nolinida told us. There came a heavy storm and rain, one day. The house was old and looked as if it would collapse in the rain. You said, 'Mirra cannot be allowed to stay there any longer. She must move into our place.' 'That is how the Mother came in our midst and stayed on for good, as our Mother,' says Nolinida. But they did not call her Mother then. It took them six years before they learned to call her so. And then, Nolinida gave a very sweet touch by

Page 219

saying, 'You can see now how that spell of stormy weather came as a benediction. Nature did in fact become a collaborator of the Divine Purpose.' " Sri Aurobindo was smiling.

"Nolinida explained to us that at first she did not appear to them as the Mother. She had been to them a friend and companion, a comrade almost, at the most an object of reverence and respect.

"In the beginning, you would refer to the Mother quite distinctly as Mirra. For some time afterwards - perhaps over a period of years - they noticed that you stopped at the sound M and uttered the full name Mirra as if after a slight hesitation. To them it seemed rather queer at the time, but later they came to know the reason. You were on the verge of saying 'Mother', but they were not yet prepared for it so you ended with Mirra instead of saying 'Mother'.

"Just imagine! It took them years to call her 'Mother'. Isn't it incredible?"

"Yes," answered Sri Aurobindo, "I had to prepare them, to remould them gradually. All the old mental formations and traditional habits had to be broken and a new light poured down in their place - all this was not done in a day. For you it is relatively easy, firstly because you are still young and you don't believe yourselves to be great and wise, as if already possessing all that is to be known. Then again, the times have changed, the atmosphere in the world around you is different today. But it was because those early sadhaks learned to accept her as the Mother that they prepared the way for you, making it easier for you to call her 'Mother' unhesitatingly. And now, what else did Nolini tell you?"

"He told us about a Sannyasi who was actually a revolutionary disguised as an ascetic so that the police might not recognise him."

"Oh, Amar Chatterjee?"

"Yes, but he called himself Kaivalyananda. The way Nolinida described the incident to us was fascinating. He told us that one day, a Sannyasi with a striking appearance

Page 220

came to see you. He was very handsome, tall and fair. From beneath a huge turban a few locks of hair hung down on his shoulders. He begged to have your darshan. And before you, he disclosed his identity: he was the famous revolutionary leader - Amarendranath Chatterjee! The British were moving heaven and earth for his capture. And perhaps they had set a price on his head too. Nolinida and the others were full of joy and excitement to see their Amarda amidst them in person!

"Amarda had been to many places, in various disguises: a primitive savage in Assam, a Muslim selling eggs in East Bengal, etc. Finally in the guise of an ascetic, a Guru, he set up an Ashram near Tanjore. Now he had come to see you, in order to ask you what he should do next!"

"Yes," smiled Sri Aurobindo, "I remember. I was very surprised to see him. I had been told that a Sannyasi was teaching my Yoga and philosophy in South India, but that Amar should be that Sannyasi, the revolutionary who had come to see me off when I boarded the Dupleix, was something I could never have dreamed of!"

"What did you advise him to do?" asked Rohit.

"I asked him to give up his ascetic disguise and even his revolutionary activities, and take up the work and responsibilities of an ordinary man, a citizen. And I believe he did just that. He started a shop in Calcutta, a cloth shop, and was our faithful follower till his death."

"Another story too is very interesting, it's about ghosts and spirits, the ones who were throwing stones in your house. But he said that he was himself not present at the time, because he had gone back home to Bengal for a while. So he asked us to request you to describe the incident to us."

"Oh! that old story! All the sadhaks here know it by heart, I am sure. It has been so often repeated that it's become almost stale. All right, I'll tell it to you, but another time."

"But you promised us last time that you would tell us a ghost story!"

Page 221

"I promised, did I?"

"No, maybe not promised, but you said you'd think about it later," put in Sudeep.

"Oh! so that's how it was. But if you really want to hear about ghosts, you should do so in the dark. Otherwise, it's not fun. When all is dark and silent late in the night, and just one small oil-lamp burns dimly - no electric lights - then one should tell ghost stories. You will feel as if the spirits and ghosts are moving, present among you. It will make your flesh creep and yet you will feel still more fascinated by the forces!"

"You are evading the issue, aren't you?"

"No, not really. There is a time for everything. And a place too. Things are best enjoyed when the right occasions arise for them. But the story you are asking for is not really a ghost story. So I can tell it to you now.

"I don't quite remember when it happened, but we used to live in the Guest House then, in what is now called the 'Dortoir Annexe'."

"That's where I live," said Aditi.

"And that's where we Green Group children play, in the courtyard after our Group activities," added Aloka.

"I really love that part of the day. I feel the happiest then. There are innumerable games for us. It's indeed a wonderland!" said Smita happily.

"Yes. Well, we were living in that house then. The Mother too was there with me. A servant called Vittal used to work for us whom for some reason we had sacked. Absolutely furious, he screamed threats and abuses at us, warning us that we would soon find it impossible to continue living in that house. So saying, he went to see a Muslim Fakir who knew some black magic.

"One evening, out of nowhere, we suddenly found stones falling on the roof of our kitchen. The boys thought that someone was playing the fool. They went out to see, but there was no one outside. The next day, the shower of stones again fell for half an hour, and there was a more and

Page 222

more prolonged shower every day after that. The stones rained down like hail, thick and fast, and they grew progressively bigger too. Finally, once it continued up to midnight. The stones fell, making a big noise, on the kitchen roof, the courtyard and elsewhere. We had to inform the police. The police came. Suddenly, while a constable was looking carefully around the place a stone shot out from between his legs. Frightened out of his wits, the poor man ran for his life. So then we began to examine the problem ourselves. We searched thoroughly, especially in the directions from which the stones were coming. But there was no sign of a human being anywhere. And a stranger thing began to happen now - the stones started raining down even inside the closed rooms. One day they fell on the simpleton of a boy who used to work for us. Poor fellow! He was badly hurt and bleeding. This was a terrible mystery - this falling of the stones inside a closed room and hurting the boy who was there. In fact, that boy became the chief target. So Bijoy took him into his own room, but even there he found no shelter. Then Bijoy called out for me and as I entered I saw the last stone fall on the boy. The two of them were sitting side by side; the stone was thrown straight at them, but there was no third person in the room - unless the 'Invisible Man' of H. G. Wells was present!

"Until then we had been watching the incident, making our own observations. But when we found that things were going too far, were becoming dangerous even, we decided that something had to be done. The Mother knew a great deal of occultism and the world of spirits. She understood that there was somehow a link between our house and that young boy working for us. That link had to be cut and if the boy could be given a job elsewhere, then the stone-throwing would stop. So he was sent to work in another house.

"The Mother told me, 'We'll see what it is.' She went into meditation and gave a call, 'Let us see, who is throwing stones at us now? You must come and tell us.' The Mother saw three little vital entities which have no strength and just

Page 223

enough consciousness confined to one action - they are at the service of those who practise magic. They were terribly frightened! The Mother asked, 'Why do you throw stones like that? What is this bad joke?' They replied, 'We are compelled. We are compelled. It is not our fault.'

"The Mother felt like laughing, but still kept a serious face and told them, 'Well, you must stop this, understand?' Then they told her, 'Keep us; we shall do all that you ask.' 'What can you do?' the Mother asked them; they replied, 'We know how to throw stones.' (Laughter) She said, 'That doesn't interest me at all. I don't want to throw stones at anyone... but could you bring me some flowers? Some roses?' Then they looked at each other in great dismay and answered, 'No, we are not made for that, we don't know how to do it.' She said, 'I don't need you, go away, and take care specially never to come back. Otherwise it will be disastrous!' They ran away and never came back!"

There was absolute silence in the room, all the children were staring at Sri Aurobindo with shining eyes. Nobody even dared to stir! Then Sudeep spoke, "But did the matter really end there?"

"No. The next day Vittal's daughter, who was our maid-servant, came early in the afternoon in a state of intense fright and said to the Mother, 'My father is in the hospital, he is dying. I am terribly frightened.' The Mother came to me and said, 'You know, Vittal is in the hospital, he is dying.' Then I looked at the Mother and smiled, 'Oh! just for a few stones!' That very evening Vittal was cured. But he never started anything again. At last there was peace in the house. This, in short, is the ghost story you were so keen to hear. When the Mother had gone to North Africa, she had made a deep study of occultism, gaining much knowledge of it and mastery over it."

"And you?" asked Bittu.

"Oh, I! Well, I too know something .about the subject, of course."

Page 224

Vinit spoke, somewhat hesitantly, "I too know of a story similar to the one you recounted to us the other day. It is about spirits and stones too. But I don't know if it is true."

"We shall hear it and judge for ourselves," said Sri Aurobindo, giving the boy some confidence.

Vinit started his story:

"It happened in our village, when I was ten or eleven years old. My mother told me about it,

"There was a poor woman who lived alone with her baby. Her husband was away. One day she found stones falling on her land. She thought the village boys were teasing her and paid no attention to it. A few days later, they began falling in her courtyard, then inside the house. She grew really frightened. The neighbours got to hear of it. They came to see for themselves. What they saw shocked them. Stones were falling on the woman herself. When she sat down to eat, her plate was overturned. Her child was thrown out of the cradle. It became practically impossible for her to remain there. Everyone decided it would be best if she left the village for a while to visit her mother. The moment she went away, all the trouble ceased, everything became quiet again, only to start once more the day she returned! It was as if something was forcing her to leave her house.

"The elders of the village called on the pundits and the priests. They believed that if there was chanting of mantras and singing of hymns in the house, there would be peace in it once more. They found that as long as the chanting went on, all was well. Everyone smiled proudly. 'The ghosts are powerless against our hymns,' thought they. But the moment they thought this, big stones started raining down into the courtyard. Everyone was struck dumb with fear. Only after the ceremony of offering 'pinda' - a special ceremony at Gaya - did the whole thing finally stop."

"Then it must have been some ghost or spirit who was haunting the place," Sri Aurobindo remarked. "But did not

Page 225

anyone try to find out the cause, by yogic means?"

"Well, the story goes that earlier the woman used to live there with her mother-in-law. The latter fell very ill, and when the woman who was very young then, a girl really, saw this, she was terrified. She wouldn't go near the old woman, not even to give her a drink, although the mother-in-law was calling out for water. So the old woman died, her thirst unquenched, and then came back as a ghost to haunt the house. Do you think the story is true?" asked Vinit.

"It does seem to have some element of truth in it. For this is how ghosts are born. If one dies with an unsatisfied desire or craving or passion, some part of the being, usually the vital part, may behave in a similar manner. That is why our Scriptures advise the shrāddha ceremony after death. It helps to bring peace and rest. In this case, the ceremony at Gaya finally liberated the woman's spirit."

"We never before believed that such things really happened."

"That is because you are born in the Age of Science. What you cannot see, touch or hear does not exist - this is what Science teaches you. But doesn't the great poet Shakespeare say that:

'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy'?"

"And you?" asked Sampada.

"I? I am not a scientist. I just told you a story about the Mother and me. She has surely told you many more stories. For us, for all yogis, the whole universe is a play of visible and invisible forces in the hands of which man is but a plaything. On the one side there are ghosts and demons that are at work, on the other are the gods and goddesses. Who can fathom the intricacies of this Divine Play? However, let us end today's session on this ghostly note!" (Laughter)

"But, you did not explain where the stones came from and how they could fall even in a closed room."

Page 226

"Perhaps we will talk of it some other time. Now, it is time for you to say good-bye."

There arose a loud chorus of 'Why?' from all sides.

"Because there is nothing more to recount."

"You have hardly said anything about the Mother, nor have you explained why you went into seclusion, and how the Ashram was begun. Then there was your accident - how did that happen?"

"All these things are closely connected with our inner spiritual life. Otherwise, in themselves they are simple enough and could be described in very few words."

"All the same, do tell us something about the Mother."

Sri Aurobindo smiled and said, "Ah, for that, you need her permission first. She never likes to be discussed."

"But you already have told us something about her. Couldn't you tell us a little more?"

"Well, I told you that after she came my Sadhana became very intense and advanced very rapidly. So much so that I obtained wonderful results within five years. The Mother took up the charge of running our household, so that my responsibilities decreased considerably, and I found I had much more time. The few companions who were there were also slowly attracted towards Sadhana."

"What is Sadhana?"

"There you are! I already said that you wouldn't understand me. My Sadhana was my effort to bring down an enormous Power on earth and this became progressively easier when the Mother's Force and mine came together. It was this that, night and day, I was working at, apart from an hour or two that I spent with the boys or with a few visitors. I also walked seven to eight hours a day as part of my work."

"You just walked?"

Sri Aurobindo said laughing, "Walking was a form of meditation. Instead of sitting down to meditate, I preferred doing so while I walked and this was how I brought down the highest forces."

"Oh yes! we have heard that your regular pacing to and

Page 227

fro had left a clear impression on the floor, which could be made out from the cement used to cover it, but unfortunately we can't see it any more," said Sachet.

"Where?" asked Kriti.

"In the Guest House," replied Udita.

"Exactly. But why can't you see it?"

"The Mother had given Amal Kiran your rooms and he was happy with that 'path to the Supermind' as he called it. But when he went to Bombay for a long stay, the rooms were repaired and while the masons were at it they redid the whole floor too. But how could you walk seven to eight hours in that tiny space?"

"Why should that surprise you? If it was walking only for the sake of walking, then it might surprise you. But, as I told you already, I was doing my Sadhana. I was bringing down Force, Light, Knowledge and other higher things."

"When you talked with people, did you discuss only Sadhana?"

"No. We spoke of many other matters. Some talked about the books they were studying. Now and then I met a few political leaders or some of my former Nationalist friends who came to see me. Then in 1922 or 1923 we left the Guest House to come to the Library House where the Reception Room and the Prosperity Hall now are. Finally, a few years later, we shifted to this residence."

"Did you continue with your Sadhana here too?"

"Yes, of course."

"Didn't the Mother see anyone?" asked Sampada.

"Not as now. She lived in comparative seclusion. Of course, she kept a contact with the sadhaks, she helped them with their Sadhana, meditated with them. Also, she ran the household and the kitchen, she served them food and ate with them."

"Weren't there any women, any sadhikas present then?"

"Very few. We were just twenty or twenty-five people in all."

"Please, could you tell us something about the 24th of

Page 228

November 1926? What exactly happened on that day and why is it called the Day of Realisation or the Victory Day?"

"The Mother and I were actively trying to bring down the Power of a greater Consciousness. I had already had an inkling that such a Consciousness existed. I established contact with it and, drawn by the force of an intense spiritual effort, that Consciousness began to descend. From the beginning of November, or even earlier, the sadhaks were aware of an impending event of great importance, and even the atmosphere of the Ashram changed. All of them felt a great Peace, and some even experienced this new descent to some extent. Our daily evening talks began later and later every day. From four in the afternoon when it usually used to start, it now became as late as nine o'clock or ten at night. They would sit waiting for me all the while.

"Finally came the 24th of November. Even from early in the morning, there were some who had already sensed that something very great was to happen that day. The morning passed, so did the afternoon. Nothing happened. In the evening, a few of the sadhaks had gone for a walk along the beach while the others sat waiting for me in the Ashram. Suddenly the Mother came out and said that she would like to see everybody. So everyone was called. They gathered in the upstairs verandah of the Library House. What followed is too well-known for me to relate, even you have heard about it, I am sure."

"Yes, we have. Soon after seven in the evening, both the Mother and you arrived. You were wearing a silk dhoti, and a chaddar was draped over your shoulder. The Mother was dressed in a beautiful silk sari. While you took your usual chair, she sat down on a low stool at your feet. Love, Light and Joy were flowing out of you. All the disciples in turn first bowed to the Mother and, when she blessed them by placing her hand on their heads, you put your hand on hers, so that through her it was you also who were blessing them.

"No one spoke, there was no sound. The whole atmosphere

Page 229

was bathed in a profound Peace and Silence. After half an hour, the two of you left.

"A little while later somebody announced that you had conquered death, disease, and the need for food and sleep."

"I don't know from whose lips fell those splendid revelations. All I can say is that there was the descent of Sri Krishna's or the Divine Consciousness into the Mother and me."

"What does that mean?" asked Rohit.

"It means a great deal. But this much I can tell you which I am sure you will follow, that this descent rendered possible what I am trying to do, to bring down the Supramental Consciousness. It was the descent of the Overmind Consciousness, and it made the coming of the Supermind possible. Therefore this day is called the Day of Realisation, the Siddhi Day."

"But didn't you already have the vision of Sri Krishna when you were in prison?"

"To have a vision is one thing, to bring down that Consciousness into the body or into matter is quite another. The two are worlds apart. One may have a vision in one part of the being, for example in the mind or in the vital, but to experience it permanently in the physical consciousness, and feel it constantly in the body, is something that is possible only when one has reached a very high degree of spiritual realisation. Now what remained for me to do was to bring down the Supermind. And it is for that purpose that I had to withdraw and work from behind the veil. Do you follow me?"

"Not really!" answered Rohit frankly.

"It doesn't matter."

"We have one more small question. Somebody told us that you used to drink tea. But we didn't believe him."

"Why not? Do you think it is a sin to drink tea?"

"No, not that, but - "

"Is it because you yourselves don't drink it? Why does it bother you? Do you know that I used to smoke too?"

Page 230

"Really?"

"Isn't it awful? You know, once Mahatma Gandhi's son, Devdas Gandhi, came to see me. When he found me smoking a cigar, he asked me in a choked voice, 'Why are you attached to smoking?' I answered him straightaway, 'Why are you attached to non-smoking?' " (Laughter)

"But you don't smoke any more, do you?" asked Mandakini.

"No, I gave up that habit ages ago, and quite effortlessly. The boys who were with me used to smoke too, and the Mother did not approve of it. But since I myself smoked, she couldn't ask them to stop it! So I gave it up. The most important thing is not to be bound by anything. Devdas thought I was very attached to smoking, whereas he had made a vow as strong as Bhishma's that he would never smoke. But that too is a kind of attachment. To be always detached in all matters is the most important thing. If I were attached to the habit, do you think I could have given it up so easily? Since we are talking about attachment, let me tell you the story about tea. I used to love tea. Both tea drinking and smoking were habits I had acquired in England. I drank only a cup or two, but unless I got it, I could not concentrate on my work. At that time, we were living in the Guest House and it was the responsibility of a relative of mine to make the tea. But he used to make it as and when it pleased him, at three o'clock in the afternoon sometimes, or at four, or even at five, whenever he woke up from his afternoon nap. Once, there was an enormous amount of work before me, but because my mind was partly on the tea that failed to come, I could not concentrate on my work. Until then, I had never asked for anything for myself: now I felt like asking, but it was no use. Suddenly, it appeared as if an invisible hand wrote out a time on the wall before me and there was nothing I could do. Exactly at that given time the tea was served! But later, I gave up even that habit. I do not drink tea any more. So now you can all go home, relieved. And think carefully about all that I have told you."

Page 231

Then Sri Aurobindo said in a mellow voice, "By the way, children, this is our final sitting.

"I shall be too busy now with some urgent work to which I shall have to devote all my available time. You have learnt many things in our meetings. Try to practise some of them at least in your life. You are young and upon you depends the future of our work. The Mother has said, 'When I shall not be there, my children will carry on my work.' Let that be your aim and prepare yourselves to fulfil it."

Page 232