Contact with The Mother

The Grace of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother: Some Reminiscences

I

February 21, the birthday of the Mother, is also the day on which Mother India was born. And the day of its birth, eleven years ago, had behind it a special outbreak of the Grace of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother.

This journal was in several senses a desperate venture. It was the idea of a businessman, K. R. Poddar, but conceived without any narrow concern for business: it sought to make current the gold of a spiritual light at any material expense, and there was no calculation made about the length of time it might take for that celestial coinage to be accepted. It was because Sri Aurobindo and the Mother had taken interest in the project and blessed it that the journal was launched in the form of a fortnightly in the midst of that very centre of frantic business, the commercial capital of India, Bombay, where the word “Spirit”, if it meant anything at all, might connote simply what Prohibition puts out of the way of celebrating or relaxing businessmen. The desperateness of the publication and its sheer need of Grace from the Divine was well hit off by the message (dated January 29, 1949) received from Aldous Huxley for the first issue:

“I wish you all success in your venture. You will, of course, be a voice crying in the wilderness. But if a few individuals pay attention, something will have been accomplished.”

A further point added to the apparent quixotism: Mother India had, as part of its aim, the object of plunging into political problems with a spiritual vision. It strove to look at national and international situations from the height of Sri Aurobindo’s thought. In the hubbub of political slogans it brought a standard of judgment that was non-political. In general this standard may be summed up by saying that in every field of ’activity the aim was to criticise whatever militated against humanity’s instinct of an evolving divinity within itself and to give the utmost constructive help to all that encouraged that instinct. Without flinching, Mother India spoke forth on many political subjects in direct contradiction of official or popular ideas. Those were the days when Stalin overshadowed, almost overawed the world, especially the Asian world. But Mother India, while never advocating stark individualism or boosting up rank capitalism, never hesitated to expose the sham of the Stalinist sociology and its rigid negation of the two beliefs or intuitions that are the authentic stamp of homo sapiens: the key-importance of the creative individual in the evolutionary process, the presence of a secret Godhead who can inspire and enlighten the consciousness of the individual. Mother India went all out in support of the American intervention in Korea, regarding as it did the attack of the communist North Koreans as inspired by Mao and Stalin and as the first step of communism towards conquest of all Asia, including our own country. Mother India refused to accept any right of Red China’s to invade Tibet: the historical suzerainty of China over Tibet could only be accepted if at the same time the equally historical internal autonomy of Tibet were granted. Our uncompromising protest, argued out at great length, created a bit of stir in Indian parliamentary circles. Perhaps even more disturbing to current thought was the protest, voiced in three slashing editorials, against recognition of Red China—a protest based on an all-round survey of the situation. We also spotlighted the delusion that there could be real cultural bonds between India and any country wedded to totalitarianism, or that a China gone Red and furiously working for world-communism would have no aggressive intentions against India. In regard to Pakistan there was the same attempt on our part to look into the heart of the matter and judge issues from insight into the psychological and occult forces at work behind the scene of the immediate physical event. Our guide was the vast and impartial yet dynamically precise wisdom of Sri Aurobindo, and we cared not whether we found favour with persons or institutions, whether our circulation soared or slumped as a result of our unconventional views. Did we not have the blessings of the Mother to make us a success in the sense of being a force that made its mark?

The blessings of the Mother: thereby hangs a tale, particular no less than general. But before we come to it a glance may be thrown at the peculiar case of the Editor of Mother India. He was in love with poetry and deeply attached to literary criticism; he was a fast friend of philosophy and on fairly intimate terms with science; he could even have a close relationship with history; but politics was his bête noire, politics gave him the shivers. So when the privilege of editorial appointment came his way, he stood at once delighted and dazed: it was an honour indeed’ to fight with the pen for the Aurobindonian ideal, but the foreignness of the field, the disagreeableness of the ground, on which battle was to be waged, gave him pause. He was expected to write thousands of words on various political themes in a manner that would be clear, cogent, exact, penetrating, widely informed, easily authoritative. Here was a feat the poor fellow could not have performed even in his wildest dreams. But he had learnt from experience as well as observation that the Mother was no chaser of rainbows: if she put him in the Editor’s Chair, it was surely to get solid results out of him in that position. Trusting in her wonderful practical flair, he unburdened his mind of fears to her. “Mother, I have to be an expert political thinker and writer. But I have no turn for, no touch on, politics.” She smiled a cool sweet smile and answered: “Neither have I.” I got a start. “Well, then what shall I do?” Again the imperturbable sweetness and then the reply: “There is Sri Aurobindo. He will guide you in everything.” A sudden flood of power swept over me. “Oh, yes,” I said, “Sri Aurobindo will do the impossible.” And he did. Out of absolute nothing he created a prolific commentator on political questions. Articles simply streamed forth and it was most amazing how their author was called up by people for views on this, that and the other burning topic, as if he were a political oracle! And the wonder was that he successfully acquitted himself like one. His hearers thought that it was but natural he should talk with expertness and far-sightedness: he alone knew that the Grace of Sri Aurobindo did all the talking.

This grace, fashioning a new mind from poor or no materials, worked in many modes at its job which was like that of Napoleon who was said to have made generals of genius out of mud. Sri Aurobindo not only put from afar his mighty spiritual force to the task of “politicising” the Editor’s grey cells. He also got every editorial, however lengthy, read out.to him before publication and sent a telegram of approval or modification or rejection. Matter for Mother India received preferential treatment among the sundry calls on the precious time of the Avatar of Supermind. And his interest in it had a directly personal touch. On one occasion, when a sadhaka’s sceptical attitude to the opinions expressed in the fortnightly was reported to him, he said: “Doesn’t he know that Mother India is my paper?” Here was Grace in abundance and without stint—initiating, fostering, shaping, supporting, championing.

II

The presence of both Sri Aurobindo and the Mother was felt constantly in all the turns of the editorial activity in Bombay. In fact, there would have been no such activity at all if this presence had not openly taken charge of things. And here what I have called the particular tale of the Mother’s blessings falls into place. Let us go to the period of preparation before the first issue saw the light. We were about to launch a fortnightly without any experience of the brass-tacks of such an adventure. When the office was set up we had only six or seven weeks to go before the date fixed for the opening number. We had no materials in reserve except for two or three issues. One day a veteran journalist dropped in and told us that we were heading for the rocks: unless we had six months’ matter in hand it was foolhardy to start on February 21. We said that our opening number would be a brilliant one and it was a shame to suppress it. A warning finger was wagged in front of the novice Editor’s nose: “It is better to lie quiet for some months than go up a rocket and come down a stick.” We suggested that we would work frenziedly and keep going. “Impossible! All journalistic experience is against you. Mass your forces sufficiently—six months’ stuff in hand—and then make your entrance.”

We were in a quandary. To commence and then flop—this was an unbearable thought. The Editor had at times the apparently irrational feeling that if hard pressed he could write the whole journal single-handed. But could one rely on such delusions of grandeur? Not to be published according to the original plan was galling. Yet he could not involve everything in a rapturous risk. He thought it best to consult the Mother. So he sent her an urgent note: “All journalists advise us to postpone publication for some months. They say we are doomed otherwise. My own instinct is that of Foche at the Battle of the Marne. When he was asked by his superior at the headquarters for a report from the field, he sent the message: ‘Mon centre cède, ma droite récule, situation excellente, j’attaque!’ (“My centre is giving way, my right wing is in retreat, situation excellent, I am attacking!”) But what do you say?”

On January 27, 1949, I received the telegram: “Stick to the date. Live on faith. Blessings.—Mother.” With a whoop we went into action—and our faith in the Mother’s Grace has kept us in action up to now.

III

Both the Editor and the Associate Editor, S. R. Albless, experienced again and again in their day-to-day movements in the office and at the press the blessing and guiding hand of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. Difficulties rose up of various kinds—psychological, physical and technical. But all got solved and never was Mother India late by even a few hours. Occasionally there was a sudden dearth of contributions. An appeal would go forth to the secret presence. Not only would the immediate need be answered but also “God’s plenty” would pour in, making possible a sumptuous Special Number close on the heels of an ordinary issue that had seemed hard to fill. On some occasions the Editor would have a relapse into his old non-political self. A helplessness would settle like a cloud over him and he would be afraid that the deadline might find him unready. But a deep inner aspiration at night cried out to the Master, “After all, Mother India is your concern. I am only your instrument. You have to look after it and see that everything is in order. Please get an editorial written tomorrow morning.” And the next dawn would break on the early-risen Editor thumping away on his typewriter in a gust of inspiration.

When matters other than political were treated—and there were a lot of them, since Mother India touched on politics as only one side of its multiple Aurobindonian work—the situation of stand-still in any sense was non-existent. For, there the Editorial Staff was in its own element. But here too the enlivening stream of inner help from Pondicherry was clearly felt. And, paradoxically, the most intense experience of it came after the Master had left his body! I had flown to the Ashram on getting the heart-shattering news. As already recounted in the issue of last December 5, the Mother had assured the appalled disciple that nothing had really changed and that he would get as ever the fullest help possible from Sri Aurobindo. But now the greatest challenge was to be faced: what must be written about the mystifying event that had just taken place? All the readers of Mother India would be looking up to the Editor for enlightenment.

Before leaving Pondicherry I was granted an interview by the Mother. She said, “The whole event is quite clear to me. But I shan’t tell you anything. You must write on it all by yourself.” I meditated with the Mother for a while and then left the same night for Bombay. All through the railway journey to Madras and the flight from there to Bombay, I kept inwardly invoking Sri Aurobindo and the Mother to make me do well the job which seemed the greatest my life could confront me with—namely, the reading of at least some part of the spiritual secret that was behind what looked so mighty a tragedy, the secret which would reveal in this apparent tragedy a triumph in accord with all the earth-divinising Yoga taught and lived out by Sri Aurobindo.

Bombay held nothing of interest for me. I would hardly go even out of my room lest the concentration on the hidden light should flicker for a moment and my search fall short of its goal. I said to myself: “What use my whole career of writing if now I cannot bring forth words aglow with God’s own truth?” And the prayer rose up: “O Mother, O Sri Aurobindo, if I could now see into the heart of this mystery and draw out of its depth the speech of revelation, I should be content to drop the pen for ever. I do not care whether I write anything else after it; but here let me not fail.” Once again the old appeal took shape in my mind: “My Master, Mother India is your concern after all. Will you not save it from failure, from frustration?”

Slowly through the empty days and the hopeless nights a mass of light was felt invisibly moving towards expression. I had the urge to write. But something told me to control it. Not till I felt absolutely surcharged with that mass should I put pen to paper. I waited. Then at last came the feeling that now I should find utterance. For several days I went on writing—at times sitting at my typewriter hour after hour, producing nothing rather than let anything unworthy of the colossal theme take form. A long essay progressed towards its end—one of the longest, if not the most lengthy, editorial I had written. I had the sense that the Grace had worked, bearing me through my supreme trial as a writer.

I posted my composition to the Mother. It was entitled: “The Passing of Sri Aurobindo: Its Inner Significance and Consequence.” It was read out to her in two sittings. The Ashram Secretary sent me on December 27, 1950, the telegram: “Your Passing of Sri Aurobindo admirable. Fully approved by Mother. Nothing to change.—Nolini.” My Associate Editor who was still in Pondicherry wrote to me what the Mother had said to him on December 28. Her words were: “I have read Amal’s article. It is excellent. Tell him I am extremely satisfied. I would like to have it printed in booklet form. He can get it printed in Bombay, if he wants. Otherwise I shall have it printed here.” A little later she again spoke to the Associate Editor: “It is quite the best thing Amal has written. I would like to print 15,000 copies of it.”

Face to face with all this, I could only bow my head with inexpressible gratitude. Mother India had found its fulfilment through the Grace of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother.

KD Sethna (Amal Kiran),
The Vision and Work of Sri Aurobindo: The Grace of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother: Some Reminiscences