An extraordinary girl

Childhood

Sri Aurobindo is reported to have said about me that I was an extraordinary girl. On hearing of it, my son used to remark, "I don't know about that, but she certainly is abnormal!"

When, however, I look back I find that I was in many ways unusual, which might have been due to various factors. First of all, I was the only child of my wealthy parents, living in a villa on the banks of the Ganga, surrounded by gardens and a lawn, cut off from the neighbourhood of "common people". So I had a lonely childhood and, being of delicate health from birth, my movements were restricted. To add to this, by nature and temperament, I was different from others. I did not like sports or playing with ordinary dolls. Clay idols of gods and goddesses were my playmates. Among them one of Sri Krishna was my favourite. It seems I used even to sleep with my hands folded in the attitude of pranam, seeing which my father would tell my mother, "Why does the child always sleep like that? It would be better to separate her hands."

One day we went to a fair. In one stall there were beautiful dolls and an exhibit of an almost life-size tableau of Sri Krishna as a boy (Bala-Gopal) standing with his right hand outstretched controlling a raging fire while his cowherd playmates cowered behind him, overcome by fear. I was so enthralled by it and so much wanted it that Father took me to Calcutta and we ordered a smaller replica of it with the famous firm of N. C. Pal.

Father constructed a small chamber called 'Thakur Ghar' (House of the Deity) and I installed this idol of Sri Krishna there. In the Thakur Ghar, I spent hours talking, dancing and playing with it. My mother taunted Father, saying, "You go all out to satisfy the whims of your daughter while you yourself don't believe in gods." But when at times I was too absorbed in my games in the Thakur Ghar, Father would cry out, "My little ma¹, you shouldn't spend so much time with your gods. In our family it is an anomaly. It is not done."

I was not fond of studies. Once, when I was sent to a local school, the teacher said, "Today, you will be given tests." Tests? The very word made me miserable and I burst into tears and sobbed aloud. That was the end of my school-going; I never went back, but studied privately at home. As I had no friends, my father, overcome with pity for my loneliness, looked tor some suitable companion for me from among our relatives.

Another unusual feature of my childhood was that I came into contact with sadhus and sannyasis almost from my birth. When I was about two years old my parents used to take me with them across the Ganga on their visits to Bharat Maharaj, then Joint Manager of Belur Math. My father had great respect for sadhus though he himself had no faith in God. While my parents were talking to Maharaj, I would fall asleep on his bed. At the end of the meeting, he would carry me, still asleep, and lay me in the boat nearby.

Whenever my uncle visited Calcutta from Pondicherry, Bharat Maharaj would come to hear my uncle sing. But the first thing he would ask him was, "Where is Esha?" Once my uncle, quite annoyed, retorted, "Why do you always enquire about her?"

Bharat Maharaj replied calmly, "You know, my ties with her go back to her babyhood. She would come with her parents and sleep soundly on my bed as if it were her parents' bed."

Bharat Maharaj is still alive², now almost a hundred years old. He was Nolini-da's college friend whom he met again when he visited the Ashram. A few years ago when I went to see him, he made a strange remark: "Esha, my dear, if you had not married, you would have reached a very high level in your spiritual attainment."

Earlier, while on a visit to Sri Aurobindo Ashram at the age of ten or so, the Divine Mother had cautioned me, "Don't marry."