Contact with The Mother

THE HEALER OF BODY AND SOUL

The years before the late forties of this century were years of comparative asceticism, strict discipline and intense inward-drawn spiritual sadhana. It was not easy to be admitted to the Ashram, so much so that in the twenties and thirties even permission to visit the Ashram and have Darshan of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother was strictly limited and one was not permitted to visit the Ashram premises and participate in any Ashram work outright. Indeed, the young ones were admitted only as rare and exceptional cases.

In 1937, a youth of 22 came to Pondicherry in mysterious circumstances. It was about 10-30 or so in the morning. He met the Secretary who sent him to me. The Mother had given instructions that anybody who visited the Ashram from my part of the country should be directed to me for the necessary help.

The condition of the boy was like that of a runaway. No good clothes, no bedding, no money even for food. He had somehow reached Pondicherry. The strange thing above all was, as he told me, that he had come for the purpose of staying in the Ashram permanently. This was a thing for which, during those days, nobody easily dared to make a request.

The boy had come to me at the hour when daily I used to go see the Mother. I met the Mother and told her about him and his intentions. She said that she would see the boy when she came out for the Terrace Darshan. She instructed me to stand the boy by my side.

After she had seen the boy, she told me when I next saw her that he could stay here. It was a surprise for me and many others. She also said that I could take him to the Dining Room and that she would arrange for his work and that I should keep him in one of the houses which I had rented out for the convenience of visitors.

The boy was happy. He was given work in the Ashram Bakery and then in the Press.

It was only after some days had passed that he told me how he had happened to come to Pondicherry.

“My mother died in my early childhood”, thus he began narrating his life-story, “and my stepmother, who was my auntie, brought me up. Her treatment of me was in no way an exception to the proverbial treatment by stepmothers. I had a hard life. Somehow I felt an urge to take up the spiritual life. I left my house without knowing where to go. I came to B, a town some hundred miles away, to a sadhu’s ashram. I decided to stay there. They accepted me.

“That very day I had a dream in which I was told that I should go to Sri Aurobindo. I spoke of it to my Guru. He at once agreed; he encouraged me by saying that that seemed to be the place for me. But I did not know anybody in Pondicherry nor was I very eager to come, so I did not pursue the idea. But again I had the same dream. The Guru pressed me to go to Pondicherry and actually arranged for my ticket and gave me some money for the essential needs. Well, here I am!”

A few days after, the boy fell sick. His condition was such that the Ashram doctors could not do anything. He was advised to be taken to the Government Hospital for treatment. He was X-Rayed, but no treatment was of any avail. No progress could be made. So all the doctors decided that he should go away from here if he was to survive. The climatic conditions of Pondicherry did not suit him.

They took the Mother’s sanction. One of the doctors told me that the patient must leave Pondicherry that very night.

I informed the boy accordingly and I could see from his face how worried he was. But he did not express himself. Where could he go in such a state of health? He had already left home and he did not want to go there and he did not know of any other place where he could go. And, as I was told that the Mother had already decided about his departure on the advice of the doctors, there was to be no more questioning, and on my part I could not dare to approach the Mother on this point and avert his going, even if I knew that the condition of the boy was pitiable.

In the evening at about six, the boy and myself went to the seaside for a stroll. There he wept out his heart to me. After his pitiful lamentations he told me, “All right, I shall go if the Mother has so decided. I shall go in spite of my condition. It must be the best thing for me. But one thing I want to know. Please ask the Mother:”Is it really she who wants to send me away? If it is not she, and if it is only because of my sickness that I am asked to go, I will not go. I will remain here, I will die here.”

He knew that I used to go to see the Mother late in the evening, before the time the train would leave the station. So he requested me that I should at least get it confirmed whether it was the Mother who had decided that he should leave.

After a little hesitation I agreed.

“No, I don’t want him to go,” said the Mother emphatically, as I related to her the whole story, “I don’t want him to go. I merely agreed to his going. The doctors came and reported to me about him. They said that he must go from here if there is to be any chance of his surviving. But I am not sending him away. I don’t want him to go.’”

“Then he must not go,” I replied. “If you have not decided on his going, why should he go at all? He does not want to go from here. He says, ‘If I have to die, why not die at the Mother’s feet rather than go away from her protection. Whatever happens I do not want to leave the Ashram’.”

“Then let him stay,” said the Mother, “but one thing he must do. He must forever forget that he is sick. He should not think that he is sick. He must give up the thought with a strong resolution.”

He was waiting for the last word before his departure to the station. When I saw him from a little distance, I shouted that the Mother did not want him to go, she was not sending him away. He beamed with joy as if new life had entered into him.

I explained to him what the Mother had told me. He was prepared for anything and everything. “Yes, I will forget and remember no more,” said he as I stressed upon him that he should forget all about his sickness. “But,” he added in a firm gathered voice, “but, please do not ask me, whenever you meet, about my health: ‘How are you? ’What is your condition now?’, ‘Are you now improved in your health?’ etc.”

He was now in revived spirits. His behaviour was such that not only did he follow the Mother’s words literally, but responded in full faith to her intention and the force behind her words.

The next morning I told the Mother about it. “Then it is all right,” she replied.

In about eighteen days’ time, not only was he perfectly cured, but his health improved beyond belief. He was not to be easly recognised. He had received and assimilated the Mother’s curative force to his full benefit.

The Ashram doctor, who had treated him and failed, asked me:

“Is it the same boy? I saw him yesterday. Has he not already left? He looked like him, but I could not recognise him.”

Then I told him of what had brought about his cure.