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<b>OLD LONG SINCE</b></p>
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<b>OLD LONG SINCE</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(1)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
1905-1910</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">In 
our village and all around, four names of four great personages were being 
continually talked of. It was the time when Independence, Foreign Rule, Slavery 
were the cries that used to fill the sky. And the four great names that reached 
our ears in this connection were Tilak, Bipinchandra Pal, Lajpatrai 
(Lal-Bal-Pal) and Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">Of 
these only one name caught my heart and soul. Just to hear the 
name—Aurobindo—was enough.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
All the four persons were pioneers in the service of the country, great leaders 
of the front rank. Why then did one name only out of the four touch me 
exclusively? For many days to come the mystery remained to me a mystery.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
1905 I came to Pondicherry for study. In 1910 Sri Aurobindo also arrived here. 
What a coincidence! He came to the very town where I had come! I was full of 
joy, thrilled with delight.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">A 
strong desire arose in me that I must see Sri Aurobindo. He had been there in 
our town for six months, very few knew of his arrival, but I knew of it on the 
third day itself. My uncle was engaged in politics and was in contact with the 
national workers and leaders. He came to know of the incident on the very day. 
In fact the number of those who knew could be counted on one&#39;s fingers. The idea 
gained on me that somehow I must see Aurobindo. Hearing must be translated into 
vision.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Day after day, night after night, this was my sole thought. Two years passed by.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Finally one day, at about six in the evening, my friend Krishnaswami Chettiar 
and I started from Muthialpet, a suburb of Pondicherry,—near about our present 
Sports Ground and proceeded towards the beach where Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house stood. 
We walked the whole distance. </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-141</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
I was a boy of about fourteen years. Chettiar had 
his cycle, but he was wheeling it by him as he walked along. As it had become 
somewhat dark, Chettiar proposed to leave the cycle in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house 
before going to the beach He thought it would be burdensome to carry a cycle 
with us and we would not be free to walk about as we liked. That was the only 
reason why we went to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">A 
word about Krishnaswami—who is no longer in the land of the living—would not be 
out of place. He was a well-to-do man of Muthialpet and a great devotee of 
Bharati—the great poet and national worker. He used to give all possible help to 
Bharati and attend to his needs. He knew neither English nor French, his only 
medium of communication was his mother-tongue, Tamil. He had a kind of 
instinctive respect for Sri Aurobindo because of Bharati&#39;s association. He would 
now and then go and stand a little afar and have his Darshan, but naturally had 
no talk with him.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the Mission Street (Rue des Missions Etrang&amp;res) close to the Dupleix Street 
there was a house with its front facing west. It extended from the Mission 
Street backward down to the Rue de la Cantine on the East. It consisted of three 
courtyards. Each courtyard had four verandas around it; Sri Aurobindo&#39;s room was 
in the third block. The front block was occupied by Nolini, Sourin, Bejoy; Moni 
was in the second block. I heard it said that Sri Aurobindo would daily walk 
round and round the courtyard from about five in the afternoon till the other 
inmates returned from their playground at about eight or eight-thirty in the 
evening.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
When Chettiar and I approached Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house, we found the door bolted. 
We both knocked at it with some hesitation. All on a sudden the door opened and 
was left ajar. Sri Aurobindo had come quietly and turned back immediately as the 
door opened—it looked as if he did not want to let us have a glimpse of his 
face.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
that fading twilight only his long hair hanging gracefully upon his back and his 
indescribably beautiful small feet caught my eyesight! My heart throbbed within 
me as though</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-142</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">I 
had been lifted up into the region of the gods! It took me long to come back to 
normal composure.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
did not know what were the feelings and thoughts of Chettiar and I did not care 
to know!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(2)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
1910-1914</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
All these five years served the need of my preparation. It should be called a 
pilgrimage to Sri Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Each act of mine, each event of my life had become, as it were, offerings in the 
sacrifice done unknowingly by me. Prior to my surrender to Sri Aurobindo, 
Bharati helped me a great deal to attain wideness in the heart, to loosen the 
ties of old samskaras and the like, to impart purity and newness to my thoughts, 
by means of his words, his deeds and his way of living.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Because of Bharati&#39;s association with Sri Aurobindo and his immense respect and 
devotion for him, I felt in me a great inexplicable attraction to Bharati.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Every evening, a little after dark, Bharati would go to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. 
He chose that time not with the purpose of avoiding people who would want to 
make a note of his visit. It was because Sri Aurobindo used to come out of his 
room and receive his friends only after seven in the evening. An exception, 
however, was made for close friends like Bharati and Srinivasachari, who, at a 
very urgent need, could see him at any time of the day. Their visits to Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house after seven had become a regular affair. Bharati would visit 
without fail; it was not so with Srinivasachari, however.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
There was hardly any subject which they did not talk about in their meetings at 
night. They discussed literature, society, politics, the various arts; they 
exchanged stories,</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-143</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
even cracked jokes, laughed and had a lot of fun. In the absence of 
Srinivasachari their talks Would no doubt disregard all limits of sect or cult. 
In Bharati&#39;s absence, Sri Aurobindo&#39;s talks with the inmates of the house at 
dinnertime would reach the height of the humorous. That apart, I heard people 
say that Bharati and others would return home by eight-thirty or nine at night 
and carry in their hearts lovingly whatever share of the divine riches they had 
the capacity to receive. In consequence of their inner and outer change they 
would find the exterior world also &quot; changed the next morning,</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">A 
long time after, I too had a little of this mystic experience. But now as I cast 
a retrospective look, I perceive that the past was in a way a period of tapasya 
before reaching the Gurudeva.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">As 
I said, not a single evening would pass without Bharati&#39;s _ calling on Sri 
Aurobindo. Bharati delighted in pouring out to Sri Aurobindo all that he had 
read in the dailies, all about local affairs and happenings in the suburbs. And 
if, however, Sri Aurobindo made comments on one or two of the points raised, his 
joy would know no bounds.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
his way to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house, Bharati would first call at Srinivasachari&#39;s, 
go with him to the beach, stay there till 7 p.m., and then make for Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house. The three together would jocularly discuss a variety of 
subjects. Bharati, on his way back, would often halt for a while at 
Srinivasachari&#39;s and then go home. As soon as they reached home from Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s, the people assembled there would put the identical question: &quot;What 
did Sri Aurobindo say today?&quot; It was as though the Jivatman wanted to know the 
Will of the Paramatman.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Two years passed in this way. At home we had a strict observance of orthodox 
rites and rituals. But the moment Bharati arrived, these began to crumble away; 
in his presence all rules and ceremonies, habits and customs slipped off from me 
and disappeared in no time. Why so? Because it was Sri Aurobindo&#39;s wish that 
expressed itself through him.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">My 
neighbor was no more a stranger to me, whether</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-144 </font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">a 
shudra or a pariah; he was as I was, a man; little by little my heart got soaked 
in the feeling that he was my brother. This feeling began to translate itself 
into due practice. Today it might appear as nothing uncommon. But even to 
imagine today what difficulties it might have created some fifty years ago can 
make one shudder with fear. The village life was orthodox in its ways; the town 
life was somewhat different to the same extent as green leaf and green fruit 
might appear to differ. Later on, Bharati did away with these customs and threw 
them off like chaff, as things without substance. It would be interesting to 
follow the whole development and examine it through all its stages. That was the 
time when the removal of the mere tuft of hair from the head would mean the loss 
of the very truth of Brahmin-hood. But now the white people are not only not 
looked upon as Mlechchas as before, but, in addition, they as well as the 
Chinese and the Negroes and other races are all felt as pertaining to humankind. 
Afterwards I realised that the disappearance of the sense of division from 
within me had been the effect of a continuous shedding of light upon my heart 
imperceptibly by Sri Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Whether in Bharati&#39;s house or by the tanks or beside the big lake, at the time 
of collective dining the so-called Pariahs, Shudras, Brahmins would all sit 
together comfortably without any distinction of caste or creed and take their 
meals. Today it may appear quite common. But in those days many of us would not 
dare to disclose such a conduct at home. We would be alarmed if some family 
member chanced to see us taking part in a collective dinner. Along with Bharati 
we would make fun of caste distinction. The feeling that all were men had taken 
deep root in the heart of each of us. Now as we look back upon the past we come 
to realise how far we have progressed in our endless pilgrimage to Sri 
Aurobindo. Looked at from another standpoint it would appear clearly as but one 
step in the path leading to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s ideal.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The truth must manifest itself in the heart; the manifested truth must grow up 
step by step. An unending, ever-growing </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-146</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
aspiration hailing from afar in the bourn less space of my being fell upon me like a golden light.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the matter of ritual observance a change within me was going on without my 
knowledge during two or three years; the truth had dawned upon me that the outer 
was nothing else than the inner. Old habits and customs had lost all meaning and 
looked like worm-eaten things to me.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
had to pass through a period when my inner being would say one thing and my 
outer life would express something else. Gurudeva, whom I had not yet seen with 
naked eyes, caught hold of my heart and brought about its radical change. 
Bharati was very helpful in effectuating my inner nearness to Sri Aurobindo. 
Often it would occur to me: &quot;Why did I not have, like Bharati, courage enough to 
act according to the inner voice?&quot; As I grew more and more familiar with 
Bharati, the rites and ceremonies, rules and regulations dropped off from me as 
withered leaves from a tree. During that time my old orthodox friends and 
relatives took upon themselves the task of explaining to me what amount of truth 
lay in religious rules and regulations, in what way they were true. But they 
failed to strike my mind as true. Was it because of an attraction for the new? 
Or was it that I could find no relation ever existing between the eternal and 
the old?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
times Bharati made us hear what. Sri Aurobindo had told him on the Shakti cult. 
But I put no question on its details.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
made repeated requests to Bharati to take me to Sri Aurobindo. He, however, kept 
silent each time I made this request. Several times I requested my late uncle 
also. But no definite reply from him either. I used to hear that a very limited 
number of persons had permission to see Sri Aurobindo; that only Bharati and 
Srinivasachari could see him daily; that my uncle had his Darshan only once a 
month.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">It 
had been made evident to me after those numerous attempts that Sri Aurobindo&#39;s 
Darshan was a rarity and to obtain it with the help of Bharati or Srinivasachari 
or my uncle was well-nigh impossible. Then how was I to have</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-146</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s Darshan? In the core of my heart burnt a living faith incessant 
and unwavering, that somehow some day I would have his Darshan.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
During that period, one day at about five-thirty or six in the evening, I 
happened to meet on the beach Ramaswami Iyengar, who a few years later became 
well renowned as Va Ra. He had been living then in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. As 
intimacy with him grew, I felt a singular attraction for conversation with him. 
His remarks were always trenchant and scintillating. Never would he speak of 
anyone with respect. His face had charm. His eyes beamed. While returning home 
from the beach I would always feel sad to break off conversation with him. And 
the hope to meet Sri Aurobindo through him drew me all the more to his company.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(3)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">As 
a result of my stay at Madras, the tuft of hair on my head got shortened and 
shrunken. In my Pondicherry days this tuft (<i>shikha</i>) had drawn its strength from 
three-fourths of my head. Such a beautiful shikha Bharati would always insist 
upon being removed whenever he would happen to see it. My mother, however, 
cherished for my shikha the same affection as she did for myself. Somehow a fear 
had crept into my mother&#39;s mind that I might one day reduce the shikha to nil. 
She would often tell me, &quot;Keep the shikha as it is. Do nothing with it in play.&quot; 
She would mutter to her companions that if someday her child&#39;s shikha came to an 
end, it could only be through Bharati.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Destiny, however, did away with this stately tuft! How, I shall narrate.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
During my two years&#39; stay at Madras, my shikha&#39;s form shrank to a lean twine. 
That was the price I had to pay for my life in Madras!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the year 1917—I do not quite remember the day and</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-147</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">the month—probably during May 
I put up as usual in the house of Sri Aurobindo when I came to Pondicherry. This 
time I had decided to stay for two days instead of one.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The inmates of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house would sometimes begin a conversation at 
about 9.30 p.m. and continue it till after midnight. And when I was in their 
midst the conversation would prolong itself much later than midnight. This 
discussion would embrace diverse subjects such as philosophy, social reforms, 
the changes that ought to take place in the manners and customs of Indian 
life, various yogic practices, the characteristic difference between Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s yoga and the traditional ones, etc. Amidst such talks Sri Aurobindo 
would shine as the light of Truth laying bare the central significance of 
everything.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
luck would have it, on the second day of my stay, when the talk was about to 
terminate, it suddenly turned towards my shikha. The talk was indeed carried on 
in a spirit of jest and fun. But I had the apprehension that night that the 
shikha would no more be on my head. The importance of the shikha for such 
ceremonies as the upanayana (investiture with the sacred thread), marriage, 
sraddha (annual ritual for the deceased), etc., is of course not unknown to 
anyone.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Next morning having got up, as I -felt for the shikha I found it non-existent.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
got struck with fear. How should I dare look straight in the faces of my parents 
and relatives? A Brahmin youth without a shikha was no better than a pariah! 
Thoughts like these troubled my mind.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
put off my decision to start for Madras to the third day. There was none to 
sympathize with my mental agony, the bewildered state of my heart. All inmates 
of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house appreciated the extinction of my shikha and scoffed at 
such senseless customs.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
then went to Bharati thinking that he alone would show sympathy with my 
condition then. He listened to all that I said and exclaimed, &quot;Do you have the 
courage to leave your family completely and come out of it? If so, from this 
very </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-148</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">moment stay on with me&quot;. Emphatically he pronounced the sentence and made 
no attempt to pacify my perplexed feelings.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
my heart was attached to my parents, specially to my mother, I hesitated a 
little before replying to the words of Bharati and said, &quot;Now the shikha is no 
longer with me. It is in somebody else&#39;s grasp! How am I then to stay with you?&quot; 
It was in this strain that the reply came. I found at last a consolation in the 
thought and feeling that on going to Madras I would stay there in hiding, out of 
my parents&#39; and relatives&#39; ken.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
started for Madras two or three days later. I heard afterwards that in 
accordance with Sri Aurobindo&#39;s decision and order the shikha had been cut off. 
There is a custom still prevalent in South India to go to a temple and offer 
prayers there in order to remove the tuft of hair. The temple of Tirupati is 
held to be the foremost among the places for this purpose. Why does God ask for 
the shikha, what mystery lies behind it? I cannot explain. Nor can I say why Sri 
Aurobindo demanded my shikha.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Not even ten days had passed since my arrival in Madras when my father who had 
found out my lodging came to my room. Astounded at my appearance he stood fixed 
like a statue. It took him about ten minutes to come to his own self and then he 
sat down on the floor. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Some more time passed for 
the words to come out of his mouth. His words when uttered simply stupefied me.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
&quot;You have broken our religious traditions and set at naught all religious rites 
and customs.&quot; Why did he speak so? There was no religious mark on my forehead—a 
blank brow! No tuft of hair on my head! No sacred thread across my chest! What 
else was needed? This was the ghost my father saw of me!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
spoke not a word.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
About an hour elapsed before my father, without turning to me, said, &quot;A girl has 
been chosen for you at Bangalore. She belongs to a rich family. Her parents have 
of themselves offered to bear all the expenses for your studies up to</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-149</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
B.A. They are likely to give as dowry fifty thousand rupees in cash. I have just 
seen the girl. Yes, she is quite dark in complexion with pock marks on the face. 
Her family is extremely orthodox. But of what use now to think about all this? 
You have pulled down the whole edifice that I had built.&quot; So saying he got up 
all of a sudden and left.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The sacred thread can be bought and put on; the religious mark can also be 
painted on the forehead; but where to go for the shikha?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
The shikha was offered as first fruit to Lord Sri Aurobindo. Was this not a 
scrupulously orthodox Brahmacharya?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The shikha was scissored off clean by Nolini Kanta Gupta in obedience to Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s order at about 2 a.m. on the altar of the temple at sacred 
Pondicherry in which Sri Aurobindo is the<i> murti </i>(deity). He performed this 
service when I was asleep.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(4)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">In 
the days when the French were in considerable number in Pondicherry, there was a 
bakery called Boulangerie in French at the crossing of the Ananda Rangapillai 
and the Mission streets. Bread used to be supplied daily from here to Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house. A young man of about twenty-five would carry from house to 
house a basket full of bread and biscuits, deliver them as per arrangement, take 
the signatures of the residents and go back.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The story I am going to narrate took place about fifty years ago. Sri Aurobindo 
lived then in the Francois Martin street. I remember only the name of one person 
out of the several who stayed with him; the other names are lost to my memory.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The lunch in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house would generally finish by 12 noon. The main 
gate and the room doors of the house were not shut or bolted in those days. Even 
so, no outsiders or thieves would get in.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-150</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
After the midday meal the inmates of the house, all except Sri Aurobindo, were 
in the habit of going to sleep after closing their windows to keep off the heat 
of the sun. They would sleep from 12.30 to 2.30 or 3. The boy carrying bread 
used to put it in the proper place between 2 and 2.30 and go out. He would enter 
by the main gate, climb the stairs and approaching the table in the middle of 
the verandah, which would be dark owing to the shutting of windows, put the 
bread and account book on it and leave the house. After 3 the bread was removed 
to its place and the signature put in the book. The boy returned before 5 or 
5.30 to collect the book for bringing it again next day with the bread.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The verandah table had but one drawer. It had no locking arrangement. Some ten 
one-rupee notes and five rupees&#39; worth in small coins would generally be inside 
the drawer. The inmates were not in the habit of counting the money while 
keeping it in. The amount would sometimes be more, sometimes less.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One day when Bejoy Nag opened the drawer to take some money out, he by chance 
detected an appreciable shortage. He was a bit startled. He kept observing for 2 
or 3 consecutive days. All the notes vanished mysteriously. Only the small coins 
remained. Bejoy Nag one day kept a five-rupee note and two or three one-rupee 
notes together with the small coins to observe the result. The very next day a 
one-rupee note was missing. The next day to that, another one-rupee note 
disappeared. He was convinced by this that it was during their sleep that the 
money was being stolen. He resolved to catch the thief anyhow; he called me, 
asked for my help to catch the thief red-handed by keeping an eye on him from a 
hiding place between 12.30 and 2.30 p.m. Being young, I was over-enthusiastic to 
catch the culprit.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
the appointed time three of us (besides Bejoy Nag there was someone else whose 
name I forget) concealed ourselves behind the doors and kept a watch from three 
directions. It was about 2 p.m. My heart was beating fast with impatience. The 
bakery boy climbed up the stairs and then walked up to the upper verandah 
without the least sound as if he </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-151</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">did not intend to disturb our sleep. He took 
down the bread basket from his head, put the fixed number of loaves and the 
account book on the table (a bit of pencil would always be attached to the 
book), silently opened the drawer of that rickety table, picked a five-rupee 
note out of it and thrusting it inside his turban retraced his steps. I could no 
longer contain myself. All three of us leaped lightning-like upon the boy and 
catching him dealt resounding blows to him. The sound of beating in that silent 
hour fell as that of thunder upon my ear. At the first two or three blows the 
boy uttered no word. As the fourth blow came upon him he could not bear it and 
started to cry out. He confessed that he had been stealing for sometime past and 
promised that he would do it no more. Either on hearing the cry of the boy or 
for some other reason Sri Aurobindo came out of his room straight to the 
verandah and appeared before us. For a little while he stood without a word. On 
the face of the boy who had received blows there shone the solace of having seen 
his Saviour. Our raised fists dropped down of themselves and we stood still as 
though we had been the culprits. Sri Aurobindo forbade us to take the five-rupee 
note away from him and when we heard the order we felt as if a sentence had been 
passed upon us.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<b>(5)</b></p>
			<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">It 
became a habit with me to meet Ramaswami Iyengar on the beach every evening at 
about 5-30 just after leaving school. It was natural for my school friends also 
to accompany me.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
How did Ramaswami Iyengar come to Pondicherry? How did he meet Sri Aurobindo? I 
did not know well then. I heard that it was he, Ramaswami Iyengar, who had 
secretly invited K.V.Rangaswami Iyengar, of whom more presently, and arranged a 
meeting between him and Sri Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-152</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
The story is this. A Siddhapurusha—a Yogi—called Nagai Japta was the Kulaguru (family preceptor) of K.Ranga-swami Iyengar and a close 
friend of his. My uncle used to tell me of many a miracle which the Yogi had 
done. It was rumoured that when paddy fields went dry for want of water, Japta&#39;s 
power would bring down the needed rain and make the withering paddy plants shoot 
forth again.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
This great man had also said to the family members of Rangaswami Iyengar to this 
effect: &quot;A great saint will come to the South from the North; he is a great Yogi 
and will show the way not only to our country but to the whole human race; he 
will be indeed your Kulaguru after me, you should accept him as such.&quot; This he 
said and after a few days disappeared, one did not know where.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
learning of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s arrival at Pondicherry, Rangaswami came here 
secretly with the help of Ramaswami, to see Sri Aurobindo and talk to him. 
Secrecy was necessary at that time to avoid suspicion of the British Police.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Rangaswami came several times afterwards to meet Sri Aurobindo openly. But it 
was during the earlier secret visits Sri Aurobindo wrote—apparently—the book 
Yogic Sadhan for him and gave it to him.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the company of some close friends like Srinivasachari, Ramaswami and Rangaswami, 
there used to be now and then what is called &quot;automatic writing&quot;, that is to 
say, writing by spirits, as they are named. I am not sure whether the persons 
mentioned were the only ones present, there might have been a few others too. I 
gathered different versions from different people on the matter. It is said that 
Bharati also used to be in those meetings.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Now, what does automatic writing mean? It is usually done at night only. In the 
dim light of a lamp sits a man— the right sort of man, it goes without saying—in 
deep quietude in a chair beside a table, with pencil and paper in front. He 
invites or awaits the coming of a spirit, most often the spirit of a dead 
person. The spirit enters into the quietly expectant medium and taking hold of 
his hand writes down answers to questions put by the people assembled or sets 
down whatever it pleases the spirit to say for the amusement</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 25px; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-153</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
or enlightenment of 
the assembly. I myself witnessed such a phenomenon when Sri Aurobindo did the 
writing and I was full of wonder. Of course it is truly interesting when the 
medium is a qualified person; every one is not <font face="Times New Roman">a`</font>Sri Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The book <i>Yogic Sadhan </i>had its origin in this way. It is said that it was written 
through the medium of Sri Aurobindo by some great spirit, probably Rammohan Roy; 
for it seems Sri Aurobindo said that he saw the figure of Rammohan as he was 
doing the writing. The spirit entered into him, that is to say, into his hands 
and wrote down the book. That is why the book, printed at Srirangam Vani Vilas 
Press, at the instance of Rangaswami Iyengar, was ascribed to an Uttara Yogi as 
author or editor: that is to say, a Yogi who had come from the North gave form 
to the book.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
I already mentioned I used to go to the beach after my school hours and stay 
there till seven or seven-thirty in the evening. Among the persons I met there 
the most important one was, of course, Ramaswami Iyengar. There I met also 
Subburattinam, who became famous later on as the writer Bharatidasan. The young 
Swaminathan, whose traces I have now lost, was also there and a few schoolmates. 
All of us used to sit on the sands and, as is the way with youngsters, left no 
subject undiscussed.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
that time naturally I did not realise what was the new and precious thing which 
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s active presence was shaping in me. Not that even now I have the 
full knowledge of it. It was, however, Sri Aurobindo&#39;s dynamic presence that 
accounted for the indescribable joy experienced by me. And it was through 
Ramaswami that the great riches of Sri Aurobindo came down to me as Grace from 
the Divine, and also spread in a somewhat formless or informal way among all. My 
thought remained absorbed in whatever Ramaswami would say about Sri Aurobindo, 
his message, his talk, his jokes, everything.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One day all of a sudden a thought arose in me; I told Ramaswami while on the 
beach, &quot;I would like very much to dine with you once.&quot; I could make out from his 
face</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-154</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
that this proposal of mine came to him like a thunderbolt. The proposal was 
not made in the presence of others, I whispered it into his ears, when I found 
myself alone with him; very clearly there was but one motive behind it. I hoped 
that if I dined with him, Sri Aurobindo also would be there. Ramaswami, 
evidently bewildered, thought for a moment and then questioned me, &quot;But it is no 
vegetarian meal in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house; how do you propose to dine there?&quot; He 
said this somewhat hesitatingly and hoped it would put an end to the matter. But 
I was not to be baulked so easily. A little perplexed, I too retorted, &quot;What if 
there be no vegetarian meal? I am ready to dine with you all.&quot; He must have been 
terribly vexed to get such an unexpected reply and in such a categorical manner, 
without a moment&#39;s hesitation. He however gave no expression to his surprise, 
but asked me to come next day straight from the school at 12 noon and join him. 
I was beside myself with joy.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Next day the closing bell at the Calve School went ding-dong at 11-30 sharp. 
Along with the other students, I too walked out of the school. I went straight 
home to Muthial-pet, took my bath—rather hurriedly—and reached Sri Aurobindo&#39;s 
house at 12 noon precisely. Plunged in the thought that in a little while I 
would be seeing Sri Aurobindo, I became forgetful of everything else.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The main door of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house in Mission Street was left open. As soon 
as I entered, Ramaswami came and received me. There was none else. The house lay 
dead silent in the intense heat of broad daylight. My heart too was motionless.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Ramaswami made a move and said, &quot;Let us go to the hotel.&quot; On hearing these words 
I felt as if I had suddenly been thrown down from a height to which I had been 
lifted up. I could not understand anything. I was then almost dying with hunger. 
The citadel built by me was cast down by one breath as it were. Well, I started 
trudging, in that excessive heat, with Ramaswami towards a hotel more than a 
mile away; I walked the distance with bare feet, without sandals. The meal was 
served for me alone. Silently, without</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-155</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
uttering a single word, I swallowed the 
food and then proceeded towards my school, Ramaswami accompanying me. I entered 
the Reading Room of the School, the classes were to start at 3 p.m. And I tried 
my best to attend to my lessons. In the same street, just a little to the south, 
lay Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house and Ramaswami moved towards it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">So 
far as I remember this happened in the first week of July in the year 1913.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(6)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
In 
the Matakoil Street, called Mission Street, Sri Aurobindo lived for six months 
in a house with a tiled roof. That house has at present undergone a radical 
change; the very spot is unrecognisable. It was in this house that I had Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s Darshan. There I had the firstopportunity of seeing him but from a 
distance.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
During his stay in this house I had the habit of meeting Ramaswami Iyengar every 
evening on the beach, as I have already said. His heart started melting in my 
favour little by little even as ants slowly and persistently leave a trail on 
granite. The result was: he began to welcome me to his room. The school remained 
closed two days in the week, Sundays and Thursdays. Those days I could meet 
Iyengar in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house at about 4 p.m. From 4 to 5 p.m. we would be 
alone conversing with each other. Our relation thus began to ripen. After 5 we 
would go straight to the beach and join other friends.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Because of my friendship with Iyengar Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house appeared to me as my 
own. That is why I felt no timidity or shyness to go to Iyengar&#39;s room; whether 
he was at home or not, I would go there. But I never took, courage to go farther 
than his room; to do so seemed improper.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
I got more and more familiar with Iyengar, the names of the inmates of Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house came to be known to me.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-156</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">Only one of them is still here. His 
name is Nolini Kanta Gupta. Of those who are no more, Bejoy Kumar Nag was 
one—his name became Vijayakantan in Tamil. In order to escape from the clutches 
of the British Government he had assumed the pseudonym Bankim Chandra Basak. 
Likewise, Suresh Chandra Chakravarti was known to the people of Pondicherry by 
one name alone: &quot;Sakra&quot;. Sourindranath Bose went by his own name. Nagendranath 
Nag and Biren Roy came later to stay in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Among the inmates Nagendranath was laid up with tuberculosis. Some evenings when 
engaged in conversation with Iyengar on the verandah outside his room I would 
see Sri Aurobindo come out from the back portion of the house to the hall in 
front, take his seat on the same mat with the sick man, put to him some 
questions and return to his room. I was lucky to have Sri Aurobindo&#39;s Darshan in 
this manner several times without going near him. At that time I could not speak 
English well. On his way to the front part of the house and back from there, Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s preoccupation seemed to be wholly with what he had come for. He 
would pay little attention, as it were, to any other thing around him. And yet, 
I was told, nothing could escape his notice.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
During this period I requested Iyengar once or twice to introduce me to Sri 
Aurobindo. But my requests seemed to carry no weight with him.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s birthday was drawing near—August 15, 1913. I requested Iyengar 
once more. I appealed to him to take me to Sri Aurobindo on his birthday. He 
replied, wonderful to say, in a consenting tone. I felt an immense joy.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
the 15th August Iyengar asked me to come at about 4.30 p.m. I reached there 
slightly earlier. All the invitees started coming one by one from all sides. By 
about 5 or 5.15 all of them had arrived. It was probably one hour before sunset. 
This I surmised by the dimness of the light inside the house.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the hall of the front portion of the house some twenty or twenty-five banana 
leaves were laid out on three sides just as it is done during a marriage feast.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-157</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">As 
far as I can remember, no sooner was the main gate bolted from within than Sri 
Aurobindo came into the hall and stood on one side; some one garlanded him with 
a rose garland; all present clapped their hands and Sri Aurobindo spoke 
something in English. All this I can recollect but vaguely. This vagueness of 
memory is due, I suppose, to an overwhelming joy and palpitation in me on that 
occasion.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">All of us sat down before the banana leaves as we do at a collective dinner. I 
was one of the guests; with eyes full of delight I saw Sri Aurobindo as he stood 
before each banana leaf, looked at the person seated there, gently passed on to 
the next and thus to the last person—meanwhile someone walking by his side 
served various kinds of sweets and other preparations.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the courtyard a big jar full of water was kept and by its side a small tumbler. 
We took some refreshments and after washing our hands we gathered together and 
kept chatting for a short while. In the meantime Sri Aurobindo had gone to the 
verandah of the middle portion of the house and sat there in a chair kept for 
him before a table covered with a cloth. Evidently he was waiting for some other 
item in the programme. By then it had become dark. In each section of the house 
one or two lighted hurricane-lamps were put up. The guests took leave one by one 
or by twos and threes and went home.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
kept on waiting, not knowing what to do. As soon as the guests left, Iyengar 
came and told me that three big persons, namely, Bharati, Srinivasachari, V.V.S. 
Ayer, would see Sri Aurobindo to pay their respects to him. If I could wait till 
they left, there would only be the inmates of the house, five or six, alone with 
Sri Aurobindo. He had a mind to take me then to Sri Aurobindo. But for that Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s permission was required, he said finally. I nodded assent 
immediately. It might have already struck seven or gone on to seven-fifteen. A 
fear lurked in me that I would be questioned at home, &quot;Why this delay?&quot; But 
still I ventured to give my consent.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Iyengar once again asked me, &quot;Do you intend to see SriAurobindo with</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-158</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Bharati and others? Or with the inmates?&quot; I could not make out 
what answer to give. Whether in the midst of Bharati and others or in the midst 
of the inmates of the house Sri Aurobindo would be the same Sri Aurobindo. I 
began to revolve in my mind how there could be any difference. A little while, 
it might be less than a minute, I wavered in mind and replied, &quot;When the inmates 
are there.&quot; &quot;If so, you must wait for some time,&quot; said Iyengar and left.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
had to wait till 8 p.m. Bharati, Srinivasachari and Ayer at the time of going 
out of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house looked closely at me with a view to recognise me. 
They did not expect me there so late. They at once doubted and wondered if I had 
become an inmate of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. Their faces betrayed this mixed 
feeling.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
about 8.15 p.m. Iyengar came to me and said: &quot;You may get Sri Aurobindo&#39;s 
Darshan as you pass before his table. Go with folded hands. But no permission to 
speak with him. While passing by his right just stand in front, stop awhile, 
join your hands, Silently take leave of him and go home&quot;. Iyengar&#39;s words were 
imprinted upon my mind.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
was soon called in. I got up and approached Sri Aurobindo&#39;s table. From the 
ceiling hung a hurricane-lamp that served to dispel the darkness only partially. 
Going round Sri Aurobindo by way of <i>pradaksina </i>I stood in his presence with 
joined palms and made my obeisance to him. Sri Aurobindo&#39;s eyes, it seemed, 
burned brighter than the lamplight for me; as he looked at me, in a trice all 
gloom vanished from within me, and his image was as it were installed in the 
sanctum sanctorum of my being. Nothing was very clear to me. I went behind him, 
stood again in front, offered my homage to him and not knowing whether to stay 
or go I staggered perplexed. Sri Aurobindo made a gesture with his heavenly 
hands to one of those who stood there. A sweet was given me once again. I felt 
within that he had accepted me though I did not quite know it. I left Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house and proceeded towards my own.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
When I reached home, it was 9.30 p.m. What happened at home? What trouble befell 
me? All this is of little importance.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-159</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Students of my age of that time can easily 
imagine all the hubbub that took place in my house!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
For long my heart had been in a state of suspense thinking that I might or might 
not attain the goal; my life drifting in distress on the shoreless ocean had 
somehow come to perceive the light-house. In the midst of gathering despair my 
being had found a new life and I allowed it full freedom.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
one hand trouble at home; on the other trouble in studies. All this did not 
touch me to the extent of upsetting me. At times it appeared to me as if no 
relation existed between anything and me. There was a screen within; all desires 
known to me and others unknown were outside the screen. Behind the screen there 
existed incalculable possibilities, innumerable things happened not -within the 
range of my vision. Something non-human, something strange and bodiless had been 
shaping my being and consciousness. That is how I think now.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
had been familiar with Bharati since 1910 or 1911; I had imbibed from him, 
without understanding, a distaste for the old and a boundless attraction for the 
new. When I look at it now even this revaluation—this mere rejection of the past 
and acceptance of the new—seems to have had its origin not deep within but meant 
simply a surface attraction. For the real reality was quite different. It was 
not the old or the new, it was not the snare of the old or the temptation of the 
new but the opening of something else behind or within or above that gave form 
to everything and touched me profoundly without my knowing it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
started now frequenting Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. My family members knew nothing of 
it. I became acquainted with one or two of the inmates—mainly Bejoy Kumar. He 
used to send letters twice or thrice per month by registered post—called Poste 
Recommandee in French—to Chandernagore. As intimacy with him grew, he began to 
send letters through me. There was no fixed hour for this work. He used to send 
me at any time between 12 and 3 p.m. He ordered me not to disclose this posting 
of letters to anyone.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
Pondicherry there were two types of post-offices in those days:</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-160</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">one was French, 
the other British. The bundle from the French post-office would be carried in a 
small hand-cart with a French policeman escorting it. The bundle woujd be 
secured under a seal. It would then be entrusted to the British head 
post-office. Nobody was authorised to handle it until it was delivered to the 
French post-office at Chandernagore. That was why all correspondence of Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house would pass through the French post-office. The duty of posting 
letters of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house luckily fell upon me. Now and then, however, 
the British Secret Police would persuade the French postal authorities or their 
subordinates, and procure letters addressed to Sri Aurobindo or those coming to 
V.V.S. Aiyar from Europe, open them and after scrutiny seal them back before 
handing them over to the postal authorities. At least a strong rumour was 
current then to this effect</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(7)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s household moved from Mission Street to Francis Martin Street. 
There arose a difference of opinion among those called &quot;swadeshis&quot; as to the 
necessity of this change of residence. A strong dispute started in their midst 
on this account. The disputation, I was told, reached Sri Aurobindo&#39;s ears.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Why this controversy over Sri Aurobindo&#39;s change of residence? The city of 
Pondicherry was divided into two by a canal running north-south. The eastern 
side of the city was called by the people &quot;European Quarter&quot; whereas the western 
side, comprising more than three-fourths of the population, was known as &quot;Indian 
Quarter&quot;. The &quot;European Quarter&quot; was mosdy, we may even say totally, inhabited 
by the white or mixed white people. As a rule, the houses in this part of the 
city had in front a footpath for pedestrians and, further away, the road for 
vehicles. Standing on the</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-161</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
footpath one would open the gate of a house and then 
get in. The houses in the &quot;Indian Quarter&quot; had commonly covered platforms in 
front to sit upon, but no footpath. In the &quot;white town&quot;, pedestrians would find 
no shelter from rain and storm. The gates remained always closed. The streets 
were nearly always silent. People were hardly seen walking there. Sometimes with 
the arrival of French steamers the shores of Pondicherry were a little busy and, 
in the interior either the next day or the day after, one might come across one 
or two pedlars carrying, on the head in baskets or big wooden boxes, perfumes, 
special biscuits, children&#39;s playthings, stitching threads of many kinds and 
Colours, and other French products. These pedlars would cry out in French, 
&quot;Merchandises, marchandises&quot;&#39; (i.e., &quot;Goods for sale&quot;), with a view to attract 
the attention of customers. This business was run by one or two of the French 
families which had settled down at Pondicherry for supplying the needs of the 
local French people.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Every house had two gates—one for the inmates and the other for the &quot;Push-push&quot; 
carriages. The latter had a wide opening, a big one-leaf door or, in some 
places, folding doors.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house in Mission Street was rented at Rs. 15/- per month whereas 
the rent of the house now taken was settled at Rs. 35/-. Now the great question 
arose: Why did Sri Aurobindo change his residence when the rent was so high? A 
perplexing question! Why this extravagance? The difference in rent would be 
sufficient to meet the needs of a whole family. All this was brought to 
Bharati&#39;s notice. But he did not utter a word about it to Sri Aurobindo, because 
there was no point in discussing about it when Sri Aurobindo had already taken 
the decision. It was Bharati&#39;s firm belief that Sri Aurobindo would not do 
anything without a definite purpose behind it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Description of the new house: it was a big self-sufficient house in Francois 
Martin St., No. 37. It had two entrances —one on the north and the other on the 
west. This well-built structure stood at the junction of two streets. Rue 
Francois Martin ran from north to south whereas Rue Law de Lauriston from east 
to west.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-162</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
The western gate faced Rue Francois Martin. This was evidently the 
postern gate, the northern indeed was the main entrance; but as it remained 
always locked, the western became the main gate. Entering by this gate one would 
come across an open space which could be termed a courtyard. The northern gate 
led straight to the staircase; it was later on closed up and the entrance 
converted into a room, as you see at present. The house being tenant less so 
long, grass had grown thick at places along its walls. There was only one tap 
for the whole house and that too in the open courtyard, against a wall near the 
back staircase. The tap still exists and is used by our Green Group boys. Under 
this water tap—it was fitted up almost to a man&#39;s height—lay a big round stone 
resembling the lower part of a grindstone.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
the interior of the house, at one end of the verandah there was a wide staircase 
leading to the first floor. Each of the steps had its rim strengthened, almost 
decorated, by a wooden plank. The back staircase had no protection from sun and 
rain. It was constructed for the passage of cooks, servants, the menials. I have 
said before that the house was big but it looked desolate.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The upper storey held spacious rooms and a spacious verandah. The east and the 
west ends had both an open terrace facing south. On the west, at the corner 
there was a wide room, adjoining which was another room and then the open 
terrace. Both the terraces had seats under the parapets. I mention this because 
we used to sit there, including Sri Aurobindo, and chat for long hours at night. 
The big room, the front room and the terrace—the three together being considered 
the best part of the house—were set apart for Sri Aurobindo. Such a big house 
but without electric lights!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The events that took place from after Sri Aurobindo&#39;s birth anniversary in 
August, 1913 to his shifting to the Francois Martin Street, i.e., from August 
1913 to December 1913, left no clear impression upon my mind. My memory is dim 
now about this period.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-163</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">To 
go a little back in our story, Sri Aurobindo reached the shores of Pondicherry 
on board the Dupleix at 4 p.m. on April 4, 1910, got down with Bejoykanta and 
made straight for Shankar Chetty&#39;s house in Comoutty Street.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The persons who escorted Sri Aurobindo to Shankar Chetty&#39;s house were 
Srinivasachari, C. Subramania Bharati, Suresh Chandra Chakravarti and Shankar 
Chetty. Of them only Srinivasachari is still alive (1962).</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo lived <i>incognito</i> for six months in Shankar Chetty&#39;s house. Later 
on, his stay in Pondicherry came to be known more and more by others.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">It 
was during his stay at Shankar Chetty&#39;s that he observed a fast for 21 days. 
Though he lost weight, as he said, due to this fast, his energy increased many 
times.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">It 
was again in Shankar Chetty&#39;s house that a distinguished scholar and savant from 
France met Sri Aurobindo in secret. His name was Paul Richard. He was sent from 
France by Mira—she whom we now know as the Mother. She handed over to him the 
sketch of a yogachakra, saying that its interpreter was to be found in India; 
and he who could interpret it would alone be her helper and master on the path 
of yoga. Paul Richard received the meaning of the symbol from Sri Aurobindo, and 
then left for his country with the message. While returning to France he said to 
Sri Aurobindo that Mira and he could come in the year 1914. Accordingly, they 
sailed from France, disembarked at Dhanushkoti, took the train and reached 
Pondicherry on March 29, 1914 without a halt on the way.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Now, what accounted for that change of residence to No. 37, in the Francois 
Martin Street, many thought, was the impending arrival of these two persons from 
France. So far as I remember it was in the middle of December 1913 that the new 
house was first occupied.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The &quot;revolutionaries&quot; who had settled at Pondicherry whispered to one another 
that two Europeans had accepted Sri Aurobindo as Guru and would stay here. This 
news spread abroad and reached my ears also. One day in December, 1913, as was 
my habit, I went to see Ramaswami</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-164</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Iyengar in the evening. He was downstairs on the verandah in front of his room 
and said that two persons from the topmost cultural circle of France were coming 
to Sri Aurobindo for practising yoga. They would be coming very soon. &quot;It was a 
secret till now; I have disclosed it to you today,&quot; he concluded.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
felt very happy: European savants! they have approached a countryman of ours 
with reverence. My heart rejoiced to hear of it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
The upper storey—its verandah, to be exact—was somewhat beautified. One old 
cracked table, two arm-chairs, four or five folding armless chairs with 
back-rest—these were borrowed and arranged there, luckily with no binding to 
return them.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Moreover, four electric lights were put up, one in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s room, another 
in the centre of the upper verandah, the third in the verandah downstairs, the 
fourth I do not remember where. There was no electric meter in the house. For 
each point the charge was one rupee and four annas per month. Whether the lights 
were kept burning or not, five rupees had to be paid and the charge would be the 
same even if they were kept on through all the twenty-four hours. Less than four 
points were not given as a rule.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The weeds in the courtyard were pulled out. Daily sweeping of the house was now 
attended to. The house put on almost a gay appearance because of these 
much-needed changes.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
do not distinctly recollect what took place after Ramaswami Iyengar had shifted 
from Mission Street and before he finally left Pondicherry. The succession of 
events and their chronology have become hazy in my remembrance. Naturally I 
could not know everything, since I was not an inmate of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
After Sri Aurobindo had moved to the new house, not a day passed without my 
paying a visit to the place. Ramaswami was put up in a room downstairs adjacent 
to the staircase. I used to call on him every evening without fail and accompany 
him to the beach. As I said, I was much attached</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-165</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;to Ramaswami and identified 
myself with him without being quite conscious of it. In the Mission Street house 
I used to have Sri Aurobindo&#39;s Darshan once a day. Here it was not so. I had no 
occasion to go upstairs. Sometimes he would gome down and if I happened to be 
there—well, my good luck!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One event. The year 1914 was born. It was towards the end of March. Time: 
evening, about 6 p.m. Ramaswami Iyengar was sitting all alone in the open court. 
There was no other soul. The sense of solitariness was somewhat awesome. Not a 
fly, not a crow near about. I entered the house. He made a sign and calling me 
near said: &quot;The two persons from France have arrived. They will just now come 
and see Sri Aurobindo. The order is that none other than the inmates should 
remain in the house. You go alone to the sea-side.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
There was a reaction of sorrow and confusion in my heart. I not an inmate! a 
stranger! Yes, that must be the cause. I said once that there was a kind of 
screen in my consciousness. The &quot;I&quot; behind that screen was not a stranger; the 
&quot;I&quot; outside the screen was one.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Iyengar did not stay long in this new house. So far as I remember, he left for 
his village in May 1914. Whenever I called at the new house I found Ramaswami 
with a big copy of the Ramayana printed in Devanagari script. He had started 
reading Sanskrit. Nolini Kanta Gupta was his tutor. Whenever Ramaswami spoke 
about his tutor, he spoke with love and respect.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Nolini Kanta Gupta gave him lessons in the Bengali language also. In the new 
house Ramaswami rendered into Tamil Bankim Chandra Chatterji&#39;s short story 
&quot;Jugal Anguria&quot; and got it published in some periodical—I have forgotten the 
name, it might be &quot;Swadeshimitram&quot;. Iyengar&#39;s handwriting looked like a string 
of tiny pearls. Bharati used to write each letter separately, juxtapose one 
letter to another and so his handwriting would look like an arrangement of 
jewels.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Iyengar would send his translations to the press only when they had been shown 
to Bharati.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Ramaswami cherished an immeasurable affection for his mother. </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-166</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
A year had passed 
since he had left his mother&#39;s house. He must see his mother now, he decided. He 
spoke about this to Sri Aurobindo. Sri Aurobindo was reluctant to permit him. He 
tried to dissuade him from going back to his place and the old life. But Ramaswami stuck to his decision stubbornly and set out for home. It was some 
time in May 1914. When I went to the house the day after Ramaswami had left Sri 
Aurobindo and gone home, I found the downstairs as if all forsaken. Sorrow 
invaded my heart. My eyes swam in tears. I felt as if I had been deprived of 
help or support. With what affection and what love had Iyengar talked with me 
even on the day previous to his departure! Did all that now become an illusion! 
Seeing me thus, and realising my piteous condition, Bejoykanta, who was on the 
spot, approached and comforted me with words of kindness.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Iyengar&#39;s departure was but an excuse for me to be in that condition. There was 
created a vacuum in me. The parental affection could not fill it. The one chosen 
by my inner being only could make this emptiness disappear. Bejoykanta was a 
help in reaching the Guru&#39;s Feet.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(8)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">I 
began now to pass more time in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house and less in mine. I would 
go home for food and sleep only. And for this I had a good excuse to give to my 
family. I was then studying in the Matriculation class of the Calve College, 
Pondicherry. My class-mate was Krishnamachari, the son of M. Srinivasachari&#39;s 
elder brother; he was perhaps two years younger than I. As Krishnamachari and I 
(I was then known as Aravamudachari) had been very intimate and as there were 
greater facilities for study in his house, such as space, books, etc., I began 
preparing for the Matriculation in his company. My family was under the 
impression that my time was all devoted to study. The time left after studies </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-167</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">I 
would spend mostly in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. Sometimes I would take my bath 
there and sometimes meals too. But I would not eat with the inmates. Bejoykanta 
would bring for me a shoe or two of bread with butter. As my heart wasfull, the 
need for food was not much felt. Even some light refreshment would be a feast to 
me. My association with Bejoykanta grew into intimacy. Once a month or once in 
two months, seven or eight of us together would go out picnicking to the suburbs 
of Pondicherry such as Villenour, Oosteri, Pakkamadayanapathu, etc. We would set 
out early in the morning to return as it grew dark</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Before my friendship with Bejoykanta, I used to go with Ramaswami Iyengar to 
Villenour or some other villages around Pondicherry. Several times Bharati 
joined us. When he was in the party, the expenses would be borne by the late 
Krishnaswami Chetty of Muthialpet. With Bharati we could not remain out at 
night. If Bejoykanta accompanied us, we had to come back by all means before 10 
p.m. because Sri Aurobindo used to take his meal between 9-30 and 10 p.m.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Thus those who led an orthodox life were felt by me as strangers whereas others 
I felt as my kin. I developed a dislike for the family rites and ceremonies and 
lost all faith in them.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
I record my reminiscences here, I follow all along in the background the 
ineffaceable footprints visible anew on the path of my life&#39;s pilgrimage. In 
this interminable flaming journey the chronological order and the successive 
arrangement of things are sacrificed. What I consider important is the series of 
small changes brought about in me by the action of light. To return to the 
subject. My heart realised that all attachment to the orthodox way of life had 
definitely fallen off from me as do the withered leaves from trees. Something 
else more important had begun to take shape in me imperceptibly. It was not 
visible to my surface consciousness. Because it was working behind the scenes my 
wrong conduct, <i>mithy<font face="Times New Roman">&#257;</font>c<font face="Times New Roman">&#257;</font>ra</i>—the false way of life—continued yet for a few years. I 
should live firmly in the truth, express the truth in 
<font face="Times New Roman">&#257;&#257;</font></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-168</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">each movement of life, be 
a fit instrument of true realities— such were the sweet notes that kept 
vibrating ceaselessly and noiselessly in my dream-state and that I heard now and 
again as a soft music in my waking state also. Although all attachment to the Vaishnava way of life had left me radically, my attachment to my parents, 
specially to my mother— should I call it desire? love? bondage?—still continued 
its hold on me. My mother had the feeling that she would some day in some way 
lose her eldest child. But as she could not give expression to this feeling, she 
kept silent. She knew nothing in her outer consciousness about it. &quot;My child 
spends his time with his friend in the house of Srinivasachari, preparing for 
the Matriculation examination. After the examination, before he joins the F. A. 
in Madras, he will come to stay with me for two or three months&quot;—these thoughts 
my mother cherished in herself and these she expressed as they were clear to her 
outer mind.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
During the one year of my preparation for the Matriculation I was reducing the 
number of my visits to Bharati&#39;s house and increasing the time of my stay in Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s, with the result that an intimate relation was formed with 
Bejoykanta and Saurindranath Bose who too was living there. Bharati once or 
twice asked me, &quot;Why, my boy, have you stopped coming to my house?&quot; I could not 
forget this. In this respect, in my mother&#39;s heart and in the heart of Bharati I 
seem to perceive the same thing, an echo of the play of the World Mother in her 
fragmented nature of the three gunas.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One day it was noon. I proceeded as usual to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. No human 
voice was heard as I walked down the street. The sun was at the meridian; it was 
all lustre. So extraordinary was its light that nothing could keep hiding in the 
places lit up wide by it; all must come to light. Not a speck of dust in that 
broad daylight; it was as though the presence of Lord Krishna behind the sun, 
pervading the whole sky, was there to enhance a hundredfold with its dark blue 
the light of the sun shining therein. Nothing could conceal itself in that great 
light. As I note down my expedience of this time, it comes to my memory</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-169</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
clothed in that significance. What was then only an impression left on my 
consciousness seems now to have been an unforgettable experience, an unearthly 
sunlight.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
do not know what account I gave to my family, specially to my mother, for my 
absence from the midday meal. The real reason, of course, was that it was the 
time for me to go to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house, after taking my bath in 
Srinivasachari&#39;s house.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Unaccountably joyful, I entered Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. I found Bejoykanta 
waiting in the verandah downstairs and, on seeing me, he called me to him, his 
face smiling. I too approached him with a heart full of delight, not knowing 
why. He then said, &quot;I told Sri Aurobindo about you and also told him about your 
strong desire to see him.&quot; (Nowadays we say &quot;to have darshan.&quot;) Bejoykanta 
added, &quot;I was just thinking how and through whom to send for you. Gome up, let&#39;s 
go.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">It 
was twelve or twelve-fifteen at noon. As I think now of my climbing the stairs, 
it seems to me as if I was truly going up towards the sun out of the dark state 
of my consciousness!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>The Scene I Saw</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">It 
was for the first time I got up to the first floor of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. In 
the long verandah overlooking the wide courtyard below, there were big windows 
giving a wide view southwards... all the doors of all the rooms were open... 
Everywhere and on everything there fell an all-revealing light, nothing but 
light... nothing was seen covered or screened, nothing was unrevealed... no spot 
hidden from light... My heart too, unwittingly, with no doors to close or 
conceal anything, free of confusion or perplexity, wide-open, soared up in sheer 
delight! I was in this state and Sri Aurobindo stood there, his eyes gazing 
southwards... His small feet appeared to my eyes as two red lotuses.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-170</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">His hair 
partly hung on his chest, partly on his back. It was still wet from his bath; 
water dripped from its ends. His bare broad chest shone in great beauty... His 
divine gaze did not yet turn towards me...</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Bejoykanta got up first, I followed him, reached the head of the long corridor 
and, as I just stood there, Sri Aurobindo, who was about twenty feet away, 
turned his eyes upon me. Whether I walked to him or took a leap to him, I do not 
know. What I remember is that a lamp was lit everywhere in me and I saw in a 
spontaneous and automatic movement in front of me an intense celestial beauty. 
My being unknowingly swam, as it were, in a sea of silence, it fell prostrate at 
the lotus-feet of the Master, it did not utter &quot;My Refuge, my Refuge&quot;, but lay 
there body, life and mind all together a single block. Sri Aurobindo touched me 
with his flowerlike hands and made me stand up. I drank the drink he gave me. 
That eternal sight still lives in my memory in the same form. I do not know why 
I burst into sobs as I clasped him. Tears streamed down from my eyes. Were they 
tears of delight now that I had attained the celestial joy of Indra-loka, or 
were they the regrets of my ego watching the imminent end of its life? I cannot 
say. Bhakti is a divine acquisition, a thing of wonder; it cannot have its birth 
without divine grace. When the heart is aroused from sleep by the all-ruling 
grace, one sees that greatness; it is so delightful to the sight; then only 
one&#39;s life, possessed of the knowledge of the Lord&#39;s universal state and His 
transcendent state, will know how to live at once in all the three states.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The sight seen by me at that young age, as I lay at Sri Aurobindo&#39;s feet, comes 
vividly into my memory. Immeasurable wonder drowned me. What I saw was the 
repetition of a marvel of many years before.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Our village. A huge sand-hill far away from the village. On the sand-hill stood 
rows of thick-set palm trees almost striking the sky. On the north of the hill 
in the lowland was a wide and deep reservoir of water. It was the village-tank. 
The tank was full of lotuses and there were lilies too in a little corner of it. 
On its eastern bank was a banyan</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
tree; at a distance from that a Peepal tree.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-171</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">In 
the evenings the Brahmins of our village in order to perform their evening rites 
(<i>s<font face="Times New Roman">&#257;</font>ndhya-vandanam</i>) would start from the village, cross the mango-grove, 
amalaki-grove, tamarind-grove, date-palm forest, etc., wade through the small 
stream flowing with a soft murmur, climb the sandhill with its palm forest, get 
down to the bank of the tank and sit by its edge. After having performed the 
evening rites, Japa and Tapa they would get up and, all of them reciting 
together the Vishnusahasranama (the thousand names of Vishnu), come back to the 
village.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
the eastern bank of the tank was a small temple of Ganesh, the holy image of 
Eyenar at the border of the village.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One evening. Darkness had just crept over the place. I was sitting on the 
sand-hill by the tank. I was then about 8 or 9 years old. Four or five Brahmins 
were still on the bank occupied with the performance of rites.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
that dim darkness of the evening, just two or three stars twinkled in the 
western sky.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
And then, in front of me at a short distance and gradually drawing nearer and 
rising above as it came close to my head, there appeared a shining ball, a big 
ball of the size of a palm fruit. Its lustre was dark blue. My eyes fixed on it, 
I kept looking at it. That ball shone soothing my eyes, comforting my body, 
seizing my heart and, as it slowly swam up, proceeded far to the south; my sight 
followed its course till it disappeared.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
must have been immersed deep within me at that time because I was oblivious of 
the earth and voyaging in the sky.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Someone in the darkness, his face I could not see, called me to go home and so I 
came back to the waking state. Ten miles away from our village to the south-east 
was Pondicherry!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo had not yet come to Pondicherry. The beings of the upper worlds 
were as if making ready the blessed town of Pondicherry to receive Him!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
While I lay at Sri Aurobindo&#39;s lotus-feet for the first time</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-172</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">I 
saw once again that glowing ball, familiar to me and quite close, appearing in 
the dark blue sky within me and leading me towards the south. It seemed as if 
the star had accomplished its ordained work.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(9)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">I 
do not quite remember after how many days I next saw Sri Aurobindo. I think it 
was after ten or fifteen days. The second time also it was Bejoykanta whom I 
asked as to when I could see Sri Aurobindo. He said he could give a reply only 
after asking Sri Aurobindo. On the fourth or fifth day, he told me one morning 
that I could see Sri Aurobindo the same evening. When I requested him to take me 
to Sri Aurobindo that very evening he thought for a little while and said rather 
hesitatingly, &quot;All right.&quot; The hesitation was natural because he could not 
readily consent to my request without having asked Sri Aurobindo first. But, as 
he had a firm belief that Sri Aurobindo would not say &quot;No&quot;, he replied, &quot;All 
right.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
That evening as soon as the school was over I hastened to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house 
like an arrow flying from the bow. It might be five-fifteen. Bejoykanta was 
waiting for me. He was in uniform ready to go out for football at Odeon-sale. As 
I reached there he took me up straight to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s room and without a 
moment&#39;s delay started for Odeonsale.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
saw Sri Aurobindo the second time thus:</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">He 
was in his room seated in a wooden chair beside a table, writing something in a 
book, facing west. He moved his book a little, faced south and welcomed us both 
with a gleam of kindness in his eyes. I looked at him and when after a minute I 
turned I found Bejoykanta was no longer by my side.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">He 
and I alone! None else! Solitude! Seated he kept on looking at me and I too drowned myself in his sacred look.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-173</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">In 
those days I could not speak English well. With Bejoykanta I had to talk in 
English. He struggled to speak Tamil. His knowledge of Tamil was, however, 
confined to a.few words like &quot;rice, salt, chili, tamarind, pulse,&quot; some names of 
vegetables. A few verbs in addition such as &quot;come, go, take&quot; he had picked up 
for his purpose. He employed these for all purposes while instructing the cook 
to make purchases. I saw him manage other needful things by gestures.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
endeavoured to speak in English with Sri Aurobindo as I used to do with 
Bejoykanta. At that time even one or two English words that I knew well would 
get stuck in my throat. With an herculean effort I could just say:</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&quot;I 
want come daily see you!&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
This I struggled to finish with bated breath. I was able at that time to read 
and understand short stories written in easy English. But I had no habit of 
speaking English. I could follow others when they spoke simple sentences in it. 
This reminds me of a small experience at school. A teacher named Mariat was 
appointed to teach us History and Geography. He was in charge of giving lessons 
on these two subjects in the Fifth and Sixth Forms. He made it binding on his 
students to speak only English and with this end in view he gave one of us a 
small wooden block, about 2<sup>11 </sup>thick-, with the following order:</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
&quot;One who holds this block of wood should be alert to pass it on to the student 
who starts speaking Tamil, and he in his turn should pass it to another student 
indulging in the same habit.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
this way the habit of speaking some English grew in us. The habit of using 
English, even if imperfectly, acquired in this way stood me in good stead when I 
had to express myself to Sri Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">He 
complied with that request of mine for seeing him daily and asked me to come 
after five in the evening. His compliance filled my heart with joy and I did not 
know then if I were on earth or in heaven.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
From the very next day, I began going straight from school at 5 p.m.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-174</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
to Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s house to see him. Before I reached there—a little later than 
five-fifteen—Sri Aurobindo would come out of his room and sit on the west side«of the southern terrace. I used to stand before him and go on talking. I 
would forget then that I knew little English. Day after day I would tell him 
fluently and unwaveringly my home-story, etc., trying to make the details as 
vivid and elaborate as possible. I knew no halt. In his presence my heart would 
flow out like an undammed flood either out of deep love for him or inspired by 
his supreme grace. It cast aside all human measures of what ought to be said and 
what ought not to be said. Today I may venture to call it bhakti. At that time I 
did not know its name. My heart was full to the brim with the <i>rasa</i> of sweetness.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Everyday I talked with Sri Aurobindo from five-thirty to six-thirty and returned 
home.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
played the role of the speaker. I poured out to him everything without 
exception. He would hardly ever put in more than a word or two. In this way days 
passed into weeks, weeks into months. The feeling that, because of this 
intimacy, his unfailing grace would hasten the change that had already been 
taking place in me cheered me up. Does ego possess any sight? It is indeed 
blind. I realised afterwards that his grace was equal, impartial, pure, as 
constant as an eternal truth.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
a month or two, without my noticing the fact it became easy for me to speak 
English. I acquired also a confidence in myself. I got into the habit of 
speaking English, right or wrong. As its proof, I had only a very few occasions 
to get the wooden block in the school.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One day almost in playfulness I asked Sri Aurobindo if I could stay with him. It 
was probably during November or December, 1914. I had practically prepared 
myself for the Matriculation examination. It was to take place in March 1915. 
The day of submitting my name and depositing the examination-fee drew near.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Instead of giving a direct answer to the above question Sri Aurobindo simply 
said he expected it of me to pass the</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-175</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
examination and make arrangements for further studies.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
was at my wits&#39; end. History I had not read attentively. Chemistry seemed to me 
difficult. Mathematics was quite interesting: I had attained a proficiency ip 
it. In English, though I was fairly strong, I had not reached a high standard. 
So a doubt that I might not come out successful pinched my heart.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
All this apart, I had an opportunity to observe the lives led by the inmates of 
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. I saw no trace of care and worry on anyone&#39;s face. This 
was a matter of surprise to me. I had worries due to poverty, due to the coming 
examination, etc. nibbling at my heart. The inmates led a care-free life.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
What it was I cannot say but a small thought had taken birth in my heart. This 
thought had an infinite power— I realised this fact much later. A tree out of a 
seed!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One day I told Sri Aurobindo in passing that I wanted to practise Yoga and I 
asked him to show me the way to its practice.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">He 
put me a counter-question, &quot;Do you know what is meant by Yoga?&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
replied, &quot;I don&#39;t know.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
That much only. No further talk about it for a long time.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
But whenever I approached Bejoykanta he would without fail raise the subject of 
Yoga. By Yoga, he would say, one could fly in the air, walk over water, remain 
free from death, be immune to disease, conquer old age, etc., etc. In addition, 
he said finally, one could drive away all English &quot;Ferin-ghees&quot; from India.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Mention of these miracles, however, gave rise in me to other thoughts, other 
hopes. By Yoga my family&#39;s poverty would disappear; we would no more feel the 
pinch of hunger; I could score high marks in the examination; I might procure a 
good job, etc.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
the close of the year 1914 the question came up of my going to Madras and of my 
lodging there. It was decided that I should be put up in M. Srinivasachari&#39;s 
house.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-176</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">His house was a big one and quite near the temple of Partka-sarathi at 
Triplicane.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
February, 1915.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">A 
crucial stage arrived in my life. Along with this came a quietude of mind, a 
constant memory of something which was fundamental.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
had not yet developed the capacity to comprehend what I might achieve by <i>tapasya</i> 
or that for a while I had come to prepare myself here for things. Even the 
desire to understand them had not been born in me. The Matriculation examination 
solely occupied my mind. The thought of it, burdened with the heavy feeling of 
my family&#39;s poverty, did not allow me to stand erect, depressed my spirit and 
created a struggle, made me live a half-alive and half-dead life, a life beset 
with hardships. The time then was like this.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The whole of our village had experienced failure of rams for two or three years 
in succession, resulting in a drying up of its fields and then followed 
ceaseless rains for ten or fifteen days inundating the village, bringing down 
and tearing to shreds a number of houses, rendering the villagers homeless and 
throwing them in utter distress. It was a time when our stored paddy and other 
grains in the granary had been consumed even before the interminable rains broke 
out. It was a time when even the cash-crop like groundnut could not be 
cultivated. It was a time of dryness and barrenness for us and other villagers 
without any way out of it. And it was time I should have to go to Madras. I Was 
short of Rs. 9/- for the deposit. I found no way to make tip this deficit. A 
month of the year 1915 had already passed.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
some occasions, when I sought for Sri Aurobindo&#39;s advice for deciding whether I 
should appear in the examination or not, he always exhorted me to do so. His 
purpose behind this advice and his jokes at such examinations which I heard four 
or five years later when I finally joined him, I could not for long comprehend. 
I may cite the case of an Andhra friend of mine to illustrate my point. It was 
Chandrasekhara, and he had passed creditably the B.A. examination. Sri Aurobindo 
made him the butt of such a</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-177</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">volley of jests for this success in the examination 
that he all but wept for it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
was at a loss to know how to procure the amount needed. Once I broached the 
subject to Sri Aurobindo. I also informed him of the approaching time-limit. 
The day after this talk, when I went to him, he handed over to me the sum of Rs. 
9/- and ordered me to deposit the fee. Astounded and forgetful I stood 
statuelike in his presence.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">In 
1915 I went to Madras to sit for the examination. Back to Pondicherry from 
there, I first met Sri Aurobindo and then Bharati. There being no longer any 
place here to stay at, I went back home.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One part of my being was given to endearing play and prattle with my mother; 
another and greater part of it felt all bonds with my parents and relatives 
loosened. It felt them as strangers only. This major part unknowingly and 
imperceptibly was captured by Sri Aurobindo. The small part enjoying my mother&#39;s 
caresses and fondlings stood long in my way.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">A 
letter from my friend Krishnamachari apprised me of having passed the 
Matriculation examination. That I had passed, even if not very creditably, gave 
me satisfaction. I immediately started from home for Pondicherry to convey this 
news to Sri Aurobindo. I put up in Bharati&#39;s house. In Pondicherry I stayed only 
for a day or two. At the time when I informed Sri Aurobindo of the result, he 
encouraged me in a way for further studies. But I felt perplexed. If I went on 
studying like this, when should I join Sri Aurobindo? This apprehension, partly 
perceptible to my heart and partly imperceptible, evoked a struggle in me.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
coming back to my village, I set myself to collect all that was necessary for 
higher studies—money, books, clothes, etc., etc. I had to find also a lodging at 
Madras.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-178</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(10)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">In 
the year 1914 I had the darshan of the Mother. I could not perceive then that 
the Mother&#39;s was not an ordinary human birth. In 1914 the Mother came for the 
first time to the land of India, the decreed repository of spiritual riches.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
directed by Sri Aurobindo in 1910, the Mother reached Pondy on March 29, 1914. A 
few days after her arrival, Bejoykanta introduced me to her. How did he do it? 
He introduced me as one of the students of the Calve College and as one keen on 
practising Yoga.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The Mother lived in the house No. 3 facing the North, in Dupleix Street. She had 
so much work to attend to that she met people only at an appointed time. Steps 
were taken even then to start the monthly review Arya both in English and in 
French.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Students from our school, in small groups, would come at their leisure hours to 
see the Mother. We did not know then who the Mother was.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
that time the book <i>Yogic Sadhan</i> could be seen in the hands of many of those 
persons who frequented Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house. This book Bejoykanta taught me. I 
did not consider him a teacher. The terms Guru, Acharya, teacher, instructor, 
preceptor were not current amongst us those days. All that we had been taught 
was social etiquette and hospitality, no one had given us any idea of modesty or 
humility or devotion.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Amidst all these superficialities I approached the Mother with the help of 
Bejoykanta. My dumb heart at once came to feel the magic power of the Mother. 
Over my poor heart lay loads of dirt. If one load dropped down, another would 
roll in to occupy the empty space.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
my first approaches to the Mother I thought her to be one like others. My mind&#39;s 
way led me in one direction, my heart&#39;s voiceless feeling led in another. I had 
not learnt at that time either to listen attentively to the still voice of the 
heart, or forgetting all outer hankerings, to feel the inner urge.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-179</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">The
<i>tapasy</i><font face="Times New Roman"><i>&#257;</i> </font>perhaps that I had failed to do in my previous births I began doing now in this 
short span of life.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Had someone seen the Mother and myself seated on chairs, facing each other, 
almost as equals, with the book <i>Yogic Sadhan </i>in hand, he would have been in a 
fix to know who was teaching whom. In truth, however, I approached the Mother in 
the spirit of a seeker of knowledge.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The school remained closed two days per week—Sundays and Thursdays. On these two 
days, at 10 a.m., I would go to the Mother, study with her for half an hour one 
or two Pages of the <i>Yogic Sadhan,</i> proceed to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house for his darshan and return home.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">An 
image of immeasurable power—that was how I felt the Mother to be whenever I 
approached he; She, however, held that power in herself without allowing the 
least display of it. On some occasions the great power would shine forth 
irresistibly. Our inner sense would perceive this radiation if it was awake.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Not only myself but some of my friends of those days had felt certain necessary 
changes taking place, whether we had wanted them or not and without our being 
conscious of them, changes not only in our basic consciousness but in some of 
our external parts too. We would approach the Mother with our contradictory 
ideas and doubts and after a talk with her each one of us would be filled with 
an unaccountable purity and joy, and self-oblivious we would come back home 
talking merrily like people living in a happy world.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
this year 1914 Ramaswami Iyengar left Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house and started from 
Pondicherry for his native place. In this year 1914 again, during April and May, 
efforts were made, as I said, to bring out the monthly magazine Arya. On July 28 
of this very year the First World War broke out. On August 15 the first issue of 
the Arya saw the light of day in English and French versions. In this 1914 
indeed the foundation was laid of my close contact with Sri Aurobindo. And in 
this same year 1914 I began feeling like a simple child the Mother&#39;s continuous 
affection.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">On 
August 15, 1914, Sri Aurobindo&#39;s birthday was celebrated </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-180</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">more openly. In the 
spacious hall upstairs two or three big tables, taken on hire, were placed side 
by side; on them were spread thick washed sheets, white as jasmines; and« above 
these sheets was heaped, mountain-like, milk-white rice. Finally, rose-petals 
were strewn over the rice.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
about 11.30 a.m. Sri Aurobindo came and stood in the long verandah, south of the 
hall, at the western end and, looking at us eastwards, spoke something in 
English for two or three minutes.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Ten or fifteen persons only out of those who had assembled that day stayed 
behind for sometime and I was one of these few. I do not remember now where the 
Mother was, where she sat and took her food.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
October 1914, I suppose, Abdul Karim, a chief C.I.D. inspector of the Madras 
Presidency sought Sri Aurobindo&#39;s permission for an interview. I do not remember 
the date. He was asked to come on a particular day at 10 a.m. for the interview. 
Abdul Karim came on that day in time and met Sri Aurobindo. The talk must have 
lasted for more than half an hour in private. While going to Sri Aurobindo Abdul 
Karim had carried a big rose-garland and two or three plates full of fruits, 
etc. Not being an inmate of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house, I had no means of knowing 
what transpired between them. Even if I had been an inmate, Sri Aurobindo would 
have said only what could be disclosed. It was rumored in Pondicherry that the 
talk must have been mainly about the World War and Abdul Karim sought to know 
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s views about it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One or two months passed after the outbreak of the World War. Nolini Kanta Gupta 
and Saurindranath Bose who had gone to Bengal came back hurriedly to 
Pondicherry. Now Bejoykanta also grew impatient to go to Bengal like them for a 
short visit. He persisted in it. Sri Aurobindo gave no consent to it. 
Bejoykanta&#39;s friends in Pondicherry and some others, including Abdul Karim, had 
come to know that he was about to leave for Bengal.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Either the very next day after Abdul Karim&#39;s interview with Sri Aurobindo or one 
or two days later, Bejoykanta</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-181</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
started for Bengal. The news circulated in the 
town that, as Bejoykanta was suspected to be a revolutionary, a warrant of 
arrest was in Abdul Karim&#39;s pocket the very day of his interview with Sri 
Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Bejoykanta started from Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house and caught the train to Madras. 
Directly he crossed the French border he was arrested and taken into police 
custody at cuddalore; he was then transferred a few days later to his native 
place in Bengal and interned there till the end of the War, that is to say, five 
long years. As soon as he got released he came back to Pondicherry.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Before the publication of the <i>Arya,</i> it was widely talked about—and most amongst 
the Tamil poet Bharati and his friends—that a Review of the kind was soon going 
to be published. The idea also spread, along with the talk, that a new age was 
about to dawn, this new age was for the whole human race and Sri Aurobindo was 
the Rishi of this new age. Poet Bharati was chiefly instrumental in spreading 
the idea.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
was fortunate enough to hear many say several times that the <i>Arya</i> would 
elucidate the secrets of the Veda and, as a corollary, unravel many a knot, till 
now unloosened, in the Upanishads, Itihasas, Puranas, etc. I heard many also 
declare that Sri Aurobindo had found a new method of Yoga for the sake of 
mankind and would divulge in the <i>Arya </i>the characteristic process of sadhana for 
following this method.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Hardly a month had passed since the declaration of the great War when I heard 
elderly people, rich in knowledge, affirm that the World War was but the 
unhealed sore in the human consciousness and the appearance of the <i>Arya </i>was 
destined to heal the sore. I could not grasp all that clearly then.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
One day at the beginning of September I took up a copy of the first issue of the 
<i>Arya</i> from the table on the long verandah upstairs in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s house and 
started reading the first article of the series, &quot;The Life Divine&quot;, written by 
Sri Aurobindo, just loudly enough for myself to hear. I read it over and over 
again. Great thoughts clothed in great words—I could not at all comprehend! 
However, it was </p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-182</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
sweet to read and re-read it. It was as if someone else in me 
was comprehending all that was read!</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
I was reading, Sri Aurobindo came, stood in front of the table and kept 
listening to my reading. When I put down the copy of the <i>Arya</i> and lifted my head 
I saw Sri Aurobindo standing there. I told him that the reading was delightful 
but nothing could be grasped.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo heard all that I said and replied, &quot;It is not necessary to 
understand it all at once. Go on reading. If you find a joy in reading, you need 
not stop it.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Anyone may perceive in Sri Aurobindo&#39;s writings a wealth of experiences, a 
mantric power and an extraordinary superhuman attraction. That first sublime 
article in the <i>Arya</i> begins with one or two Riks from the Rig Veda.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
&nbsp;Hear:</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
&quot;She follows to the goal of those that are passing on beyond, she is the first 
in the eternal succession of the dawns that are coming,—Usha widens bringing out 
that which lives, awakening someone who was dead.... What is her scope when she 
harmonises with the dawns that shone out before and those that now must shine? 
She desires the ancient mornings and fulfils their Light; projecting forward her 
illumination, she enters into communion with the rest that are to come.&quot;</p>
<p style="margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:100px; line-height:150%" align="justify">
Kutsa Angirasa—Rig Veda I. 113.8.10.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Without being conscious of my relation with the Mother before and after my birth 
on this earth I felt a child&#39;s love for her at the very outset.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The Mother left for France in February 1915. I too went to Madras for the 
Matriculation examination that very year.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-183</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
<b>(11)</b></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="center">
&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">I 
arrived finally at Madras and was, therefore, cut off from my family. When now I 
look back upon this event, I seem to realise how far away was the action of my 
own will from that of the divine Will. If I had been acting according to my own 
inclination, I could never have come near the divine Presence. We are for the 
most part subject to petty desires and feelings. My life&#39;s course, was settled 
without my knowing it, as soon as the Master&#39;s glance embraced me. When 
I reached the crucial stage of my life, and felt pulled to and fro by the force 
of attachments on one side, and by that of the divine Light on the other, and 
stood swaying in the thick of the conflict, what was it that made me give up the 
life of the world and turn towards that of the Spirit? Who brought about this 
turning? Each time that I think over it, I have the feeling that I was not an 
agent but a mere tool, an instrument only, <i>nimitta matram.</i></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
stayed at Madras till the 3rd April, 1919. Even though I lived there, it was the 
Master&#39;s presence that guided me; in my heart there was ever the remembrance of 
Pondicherry. The word &quot;Pondicherry&quot; meant to my soul Sri Aurobindo —there was 
room for nothing else there. I studied for a year in the Intermediate Class at 
Madras. I used to come back to Pondicherry once a month. Sometimes, due to 
unforeseen circumstances, it would be once in two months.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
Madras I was fortunate to have one or two intimate friends. One of them was V. 
P. Karunakaran Nambiar. He was a student of the Law College. He had a boundless 
love for Sri Aurobindo. He believed that it was Sri Aurobindo who had given a 
new life to the Indian political movement. He felt, moreover, immensely 
attracted to Sri Aurobindo&#39;s writings. He made friends with me when he came to 
know of my association with Sri Aurobindo. He began accompanying me to 
Pondicherry without fail once a month. He used to put up at some hotel there. We 
would start from Madras on Friday by the night-train, get down at Pondicherry on 
Saturday morning, and return by the</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Sunday night-train.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-184</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
Nambiar had the good fortune to see Sri Aurobindo and speak 
with him on the Saturday night. Sometimes, on the Sunday night also, he would 
have a talk with Sri Aurobindo for half an hour, solely or mostly on English 
literature. It was Nambiar who, for the first time, made arrangements to borrow 
books in his own name from the Madras University Library and Connemera Library 
for Sri Aurobindo! He is no more—he died a few years ago.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
Madras I passed four years in George Town, in the house No. 14 at the corner of 
Baker Street, opposite to the Law College. Madras was&#39; not so crowded between 
1915 and 1919 as it is at present. I would go after 5 p.m. to the <i>vast maidan</i> of 
the High Court and be there all alone till 7.p.m. I would read at that time over 
and over again Sri Aurobindo&#39;s magazine <i>Arya</i> or his book of poems <i>Ahana</i>, and 
take immense delight in them. Did I understand them or not? What was it that 
delighted me? How did I enjoy them? All this my soul alone knows, I know 
nothing.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Wherever I happened to be—on the sea-beach, in the High Court grounds, in 
Pachchiappa College, in Baker Street or at Triplicane—no matter where, the 
memory of Sri Aurobindo burnt bright in my heart. The single thought in me was, 
&quot;When will the next opportunity come for me to go to Pondicherry?&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Once on my way to Pondicherry, I met an Andhra young man, Chandrasekhar Ayya by 
name. He enquired of me, &quot;How can I meet Sri Aurobindo?&quot; I told him, &quot;You may 
come with me and take your chance.&quot;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
When I broached the matter to Sri Aurobindo, he put me several questions 
relating to Chandrasekhar—&quot;Where does he come from?&quot; &quot;Why has he come to 
Pondicherry?&quot; &quot;Is it on account of some business?&quot; etc., and then, at last he 
consented to meet him. The interview between Sri Aurobindo and Chandrasekhar 
lasted not more than five minutes.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Later on, I remember to have met Chandrasekhar Ayya once or twice in Madras. 
Whenever he came to Pondicherry, I would be with him. He never failed to have 
Sri Aurobindo&#39;s <i>darshan.</i> His first interview with Sri Aurobindo</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-185</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">
for only five 
minutes laid the foundation of the priceless things he gleaned in future from 
Sri Aurobindo. Unlike the late V.P. Karunakaran Nambiar, Chandrasekhar plunged 
heart and soul into Sri Aurobindo for a few years.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">A 
man of intellectual attainments, he was a scholar in Sanskrit and knew English 
very well. He could intently open his heart without reserve to whatever he would 
see as the best. Sri Aurobindo kindled the fire in him.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Chandrasekhar Ayya came ten or twelve times after I had left Madras finally and 
taken refuge in Sri Aurobindo. He used to put up at a hotel. At times he would 
stay four or five days at a stretch. He gave himself entirely to Sri Aurobindo. 
There grew up steadily an intimacy between them. As a consequence, he started 
reserving a room for himself on rent in a hotel here. Can the fire so kindled 
ever forsake him?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Subramania Bharati learnt the Rig Veda from Sri Aurobindo. Chandrasekhar also 
studied the Rig Veda with Sri Aurobindo methodically at a particular hour. He 
studied in this way for two or three years, not by the old traditional 
commentaries, nor in the old style, but in the light of Sri Aurobindo&#39;s own 
revealing interpretation. I listened to the interpretation with great delight, 
whenever I could be present.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
Madras I had the opportunity of contacting a number of big persons, some of whom 
were really great, and had talks with them. I met and talked with Annie Besant 
several times. I approached Mahatma Gandhi through Va Ra on Bharati&#39;s behalf. 
But none of them could appeal to my heart, which the Master had captured, whole 
and entire. I felt it had become indissolubly one with him. My Master— how great 
he was! An Avatar! He mixed with me as if he was one of us, and had taken hold 
of my soul. How could I then be drawn to others ?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">My 
friends urged me to join the Theosophical Society and, later on, some of them 
pressed me passionately and untiringly to join the Non-cooperation Movement of 
Mahatma Gandhi. My mind gave no response to such talks.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-186</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">How could it respond, 
when the Master&#39;s command had been otherwise, even if he had expressly told me 
nothing?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Many great movements were, of course, going on, but they did not seem to me to 
reflect in any way the truth of man&#39;s inner being. They were conceived and 
carried on in the rush-light of the human mind.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Sri Aurobindo had somehow put away from us all outer attractions, turned our 
gaze inwards and made it centre in him. Politics, patriotism and social welfare 
had no attraction for me. What can the outer activities express but only our 
inner imperfections so long as we do not change our consciousness and nature ? 
What use then being wholly absorbed in them ?</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Ten or twelve days before I left for Madras, Sri Aurobindo, in response to my 
repeated requests, consented to say a few words about the practice of Yoga. I 
would go to him daily between 5 and 5-30 p.m. He would speak to me in a simple 
way about the practice of Yoga. I noted down the major portions of his sayings.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Many years before his passing, Sri Aurobindo took away the note-books from me. 
He probably did not intend that those secrets of Yoga should be disclosed to 
others.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
His sayings had been written down by me in two small pocket-books. They would be 
with me constantly as a guide throughout the four or five years of my stay at 
Madras. At night, during my sleep, they would remain under my pillow. Throughout 
the day they would be in my pocket. I would read them time and again.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">In 
Madras my association with the members of the Theosophical Society began to grow 
by degrees. The &quot;Home Rule&quot; movement was in full swing. On the first floor of 
the house No. 2 at Broadway, almost facing the Law College, the &quot;Home Rule&quot; 
library was opened by Annie Besant with great <font face="Times New Roman">é</font>clat. Dailies, weeklies, 
monthlies in English and a small section of them in Tamil were displayed there. 
The Reading Room remained open from 7 or 7-30 in the morning to 9 at night. Many 
people would come to read the magazines. The hall was quite spacious and a 
number of</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-187</font></p><hr>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0" align="justify">electric lights kept burning from 6 to 9 p.m. There were about half a 
dozen cupboards which got filled up within a month of the inauguration of the 
Reading Room.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">By 
9 p.m. the library-gate would close. I was left in charge of the vast library 
with its Reading Room. From 9 at night to 7 next morning it would be, as it 
were, my own home.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">At 
night my friends, relatives and school-mates used to come and see me whenever 
they liked. In addition to the hall, there were a small room and, to the East, a 
bathroom. It was like a palace for me. I arranged for my meals at a Brahmin 
hotel in Tambu Chetty Street. I had not given up my room in the house No. 14 in 
Baker Street.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
have written all this in detail, because when I moved from the house in Baker 
Street, I made the house at Broad Way my residence for nearly four years.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">It 
is not necessary to write how I was in Madras and in what way I lived. But how 
through certain circumstances, through association with some genuine and sincere 
persons my Soul took its course in this life, and how my life developed under 
their shadow by the grace of the Master—all this becomes a source of 
disinterested joy as I remember and describe it.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Some four or five months before I left for Madras, Sri Aurobindo would sometimes 
say in a casual way, &quot;Whatever happens, detach yourself from the happenings and 
learn to watch them as a Witness. Do not get involved in them.&quot; Although I could 
not grasp the full implications of this mantra of initiation, it left a deep 
imprint upon my heart.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
This single mantra acted as an unfailing sustenance of my life during my stay at 
Madras for four or five years. How it became by stages effective in my sadhana 
is, however, another story into which I do not wish to enter here.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
have already mentioned that many persons used to come and read magazines in the 
Home Rule Library when I was there. One of them was a student of the Law 
College. He became intimate with me and kept a close watch over my way of life.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">&nbsp;</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-188</font></p>
<hr>
<p style="margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; line-height:150%" align="justify">
When I was with the members of my family I had to observe the usual religious 
rites and ceremonies. But in Pondicherry, out of their sight and reach, I could 
afford to be free. In Madras I was quite free to move about and act as I wished. 
No rule was binding on me. But in the heart of this freedom something within me 
would go on uttering in a low &#39; tone, during sleep or at odd moments during the 
day, something like a voice from afar, &quot;You are in bondage. The chains are 
holding you tight.&quot; I could not clearly catch the sense of it—I was drowned in 
the surface noise and whirlpool. I lost all discrimination of the true and the 
false. But in whatever condition I was, and into whatever hell thrown, the 
Master, the Lord of my soul, would be with me and within me, and never abandon 
me.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
The person who was closely observing my movements in the &quot;Home Rule&quot; Library had 
come to Madras from Kum-bhakonam to study in the Law College, as I have said 
above. He lived in a small rented house with his wife in Mannadi. He was a 
Vaishnava, and, having somehow come to know that I too was a Vaishnava Brahmin, 
he tried to correct my nature and my life in what he thought was the right way. 
He would bring to the Library books of short stories in English, written in a 
simple style. Each story contained moral lessons to help one live religiously. 
Handing over one such book to me, he would say, &quot;Keep it as long as you need it, 
and return when you have finished it. I shall then give you another book.&quot; He 
was probably older than I by three or four years.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">As 
he had a doubt that I was not reading the books he gave me, he proposed one day 
that we should read the books together. This, after a few days, I found rather 
boring. So far as I remember, his name was Krishnaswami Iyengar.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">
Once a week he would invite me to his house for meals. He found out in a few 
months that all his efforts to change my ways of life and make me follow 
religious observances had been in vain. He had failed to perceive that in my 
heart was ever burning the light of Sri Aurobindo.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="justify">I 
have referred briefly to my initiation. It did not, how-ever, follow</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-189</font></p><hr>
<p style="margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; line-height:150%" align="justify">the traditional way. And what I have called the mantra of 
initiation—the often repeated command of Sri Aurobindo to detach myself from all 
happenings and practise to be only the Witness Purusha—this mantra was not given 
as such. The traditional method consists in the Guru&#39;s choosing an auspicious 
day and moment, and softly uttering the mantra in the sishya&#39;s ear. But Sri 
Aurobindo&#39;s way was quite different. One may intensely seek for the Guru and, 
seeking thus, one may, by rare luck, find him. But the Guru, so found, may keep 
one waiting for years to be accepted as his disciple. This is the traditional 
way. But Sri Aurobindo&#39;s way, I repeat, was different. As we grew intimate with 
him, we felt within us that he had already accepted us. In silence the sadhana 
had begun in us. The Guru&#39;s Grace and the sishya&#39;s receiving it were a 
spontaneous development, without even the need of a single spoken word. 
According to their capacity and fitness—<i><font size="2">adhikara</font></i>—some disciples would make 
steady progress in Yoga, while others would have a sudden and, sometimes even a 
marvellous, out-flowering of literary and artistic talent. Each one would 
receive the Master&#39;s silent inspiration in his own distinctive way, and 
according to the fitness and aptitude of his nature.</p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-indent:25px" align="center">
<font size="2">Page-190</font></p><hr>

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