Darshan

17

"Your Wings Are Growing"

A Remembrance from Childhood

Ange

Well, I don't have much to say, because I was pretty young when I met the Mother and I was a very difficult child in the Ashram school. I had a lot of trouble because I had too much energy and somehow I kept running out of the classrooms. In those days, parents who had joined the Ashram had surrendered their children to the Mother and got very busy with their own sadhana—so I was sort of surrendered into this system of education. I also happened to be one of the children that was allowed to see her every Sunday—that was when I was around six years old... Mother passed away when I was eleven. I used to see her every Sunday—and there were only three of us who had that privilege. At that time I didn't see it as a privilege, because it meant I had to get up early but I received a bag of sweets at the end of the meeting and that was a good motivation...

I can tell you about changing my name to Ange. I was called Sabine before and children in my class used to make fun of my name—sabine-kabine. Kabine was a word for toilet I think; I used to get fed up, and I wrote to the Mother and said I didn't want to be called sabine-kabine any more. She wrote down four names—Ange, Angelique, Angel and Angeline; all had something to do with Ange'. Anyway she asked me to pick and I picked Ange and then I said, "Mother, nobody is going to listen to me when I tell them." So, she wrote down and said: "From today onwards Sabine has to be called Ange." My mom had sewn me a little white dress, which had those little shoulder

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strips that were tied together like a ribbon and I used to wear that dress when I went to see her and she would start playing with those things saying: "Those are your wings, you are called Ange." And Ange is Angel in French. She used to say: "Your wings are growing." I would immediately argue saying those were not my real wings and I wanted real wings. She said, "Your invisible wings are there; I can see them grow. Every time you come they've grown a little bit."

Around that time there was a movie shown in the Ashram playground called 'Born Free.' It was about lions in Africa and I fell in love with the idea of having a lion and so,—of course the person to ask for a lion was the Mother—I started asking the Mother. "I really want a small lion." This 'lion thing' went on for quite a long time—she would send me pictures of lions and various sculptures of lions. The messenger was Suresh Bhai, but I was never happy and I pestered her every time: "I want a real lion to hold and grab." And I would day dream for days on end about my lion—and on what I would do with him—and he would eat all those bad kids that always gave me a hard time. Anyway, one day she told me about an invisible lion that I had always with me—protecting me and always going where I was going. But I was of course very pragmatic and said: "No invisible lions for me, I want the real thing; not a toy, not an invisible one." So to keep me quiet she said, OK, Ange you're going to have the first lion in Auroville—now I wonder when that first lion is going to come and what I'm going to do with it when it comes. That was the lion story.

It was a thing for me to see Mother's feet—she always wore socks under her dress. Every time I went, I would anticipate that if I raised her dress—and if she did not have the socks on—I would get to see her feet. This was one thing that I always did: I would bow down and then pick up her dress a little bit and look for the feet— and there were always socks.

Another thing I came to know later when I was nineteen and in my French class with Tanmayada who was also very close to the Mother and used to go to her for school problems. He one day told a story about me of which I was not aware till that time. Because I was very difficult and unmanageable and so on he had gone to the Mother to ask her what to do about me. It

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seems Mother said, "Ange is far too intelligent for the school and if the classes were more interesting, then she wouldn't run away from the classes!" I only came to know about it when I was 19 and by then I had had quite an inferiority complex—so this helped a little bit.

I was eleven when Mother passed away, and I remember that I didn't believe it and I stood in line to go and see her body. And I went into the line three times and every time I approached I was sure She would open her eyes and look at me, because She couldn't be possibly leaving me or us.

It's kind of hard for me to talk about these things; they are really far,—it seems lost in the past—and I have later on established a wholly different connection with her. She is a part of my life and whatever I do, she is there. When I go to sleep I offer her the day that has gone and when I wake up I offer her the day that is to come.

Now I remember her telling me something when I was particularly bad one day. The lady who stood right behind her said: "Mother, say something, because some complaints came." She said: "Sois sage et raisonnable [be good and reasonable]." Till today, I try to be 'Sage et raisonnable.'

There is another thing connected to my sister I will tell you about since she herself is not there to tell about it. It was difficult for my parents to raise me and my sister was another difficult one—and she had come from Germany when she was twelve. She had a hard time adapting to the Ashram lifestyle,— to the strict rules—and also she would do things like climbing over the door in the night and hanging out with her Tamil friends. My dad wrote to the Mother and asked her what he was supposed to do and if he should lock her up or take up strict measures. And I have this in writing: the Mother said, "When a child is 14 years old, she or he is old enough to make own decisions and [should] be given complete freedom and the parents should just be there for advice and support when the child turns towards them." So when I was fourteen, my parents called me and said, "Now you are fourteen and we have to do the sadhana with you";—because for them, it's a much bigger effort than for me—"lets try this: you do whatever you want from now on and you can come to us when you have questions

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to ask." My parents and I had to really work very hard on that one and I had to keep reminding them of what they had told me when I was fourteen, especially my mom. And having a responsibility given to me like that, I was much more conscious of what I was doing. I knew that my father wouldn't go to bed, till I had gone to bed and so I would make sure that I would be in by 9 or 9.30. It changes the whole attitude. I felt I was responsible for myself and I had to look after myself and I think it was really good.

I am at the end of what I had to say, so thank you very much for listening.

King-children nurtured in that spacious air

Like lions gambolling in sky and sun

Received half-consciously their godlike stamp:...

Book IV, 4

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