Esha's recollections of some episodes of her life, as narrated to Nirodbaran in Bengali, who translated it in English. This is presented here in form of a book.
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Nirodbaran on Esha's story : Esha, the late Dilip Kumar Roy's niece, was a little girl visiting the Ashram when I came to know her through my niece Jyotirmoyee with whom she had become very friendly. She wanted to settle in the Ashram, but her mother did not want it as she was still a minor. When after many years she came to the Ashram again and stayed with Sahana Devi, I became more closely acquainted with her. By that time she had already married and obtained her divorce and had decided to settle here. I came to her help and made all possible arrangements for the purpose. Since then I have come to know her well and listened to her narration of the incidents of her life. As I found them interesting I began to note them down and was thinking of publishing them in Mother India when somehow she got wind of it and strongly objected to it. As I felt I had Sri Aurobindo's sanction for it, I did not listen to her. In spite of my disregarding her objection, luckily she did not stop recounting her saga. Of course she narrated it in Bengali and later I put it down in English as faithfully as I could. When the story began to appear in Mother India, she insisted more than once that I should stop it. My answer was that I believed it could be helpful to many readers and that Sri Aurobindo seemed to support me.
THEME/S
Here is another story. A rather complicated and heart-rending tale that baffles reason. It is about a rich family, respectable, upright and honest. This family was inclined towards Brahmo Samaj and did not have much faith in a personal God. My uncle Dilip Kumar Roy was very friendly with them, particularly because of their younger daughter who was a marvellous singer. One day Uncle thought of going on a trip to Shillong with that family. Shillong is a very beautiful place with hills and rivers, trees and flowers and fruits in plenty: an ideal place for someone of my uncle's temperament. He asked me to come along too and I agreed. But my mother did not allow me to go as I had a sore throat and Shillong being a cold place she feared an aggravation of the trouble. This was indeed a grace as you will see presently.
Uncle started on the journey with a party of five people. They were going up the hills in their own car. He sat beside the driver, the others were at the back. Uncle's whole being bubbled like a fountain of joy. The girl started singing rapturously. Her father said, "Dilip, let us exchange seats. Then you two can sing together and your spirits will soar together towards heaven and regale us no end." Uncle did so. He had a tremendous vitality, as you know, and could transmit it to others. All were thoroughly enjoying the duet. But soon, when the car was going through many twists and turns on the hilly road, the driver suddenly lost control of the vehicle and it went off the edge of the road, careened and rolled down the slope of the hill till it reached the bottom of the valley. Uncle had perceived the danger early and was able to open the door and jump through it and landed safely in a bush. The driver met instant death, three others were somehow safe, but where was the father? People living near about rushed to the scene. They began searching and calling out for him. They heard a faint "I'm here," and found him lying helpless, pinned down under one of the wheels of the car. With great difficulty they pulled him out and took him to the hospital. It was found that all his ribs had been crushed. He died within a few days.
His wife was grief-stricken. After a year her daughter too died, the girl who had a wonderful voice, so sweet was it that Gandhiji called her the Nightingale of Bengal. 5
The tragedy did not end here. After two or three years the younger brother of the girl, an exceptionally brilliant student, also died. Now remained only the utterly bereaved widow. After quite a few more years she developed cancer. When Uncle tried to console her by saying, "Pray to God," she became grave and said very forcefully, "Dilip, please don't uttter that word in my presence."
This tremendous, yet natural abhirnan (resentment, revolt) towards God — very few people under similar circumstances would be able to overcome it. Her thinking must have been: "If there is indeed a God, why this terrible curse on my innocent happy family?"
In contrast look at the other side of life. How I was once saved from the jaws of death. It happened in the middle of the heavy Calcutta traffic. I stepped down from a tram and was crossing the road in a hurry, without due caution. Suddenly I saw a car coming at me at great speed from the right while a bus was coming from the left. Not knowing what to do, all atremble I lost my senses and stood transfixed. The bus driver, perceiving my predicament, brought the bus to a screeching halt inches away from me, and, pointing a finger at me, motioned me to pass. I ran for my life and exclaimed, "Thank God! O thank God!"
How many times such miracles, small and big, have happened in my life and are still happening!
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