An extraordinary girl

My Son — 2

While my son was studying at St. Xavier's High School, I had to keep a constant watch over him and would take him to school and fetch him back in my car. My husband knew that I was intending to file a suit for divorce and that I would plead for the custody of the child. To frustrate me, he struck upon the idea of abducting him. The boy did in fact belong legally to his father, but my husband would not go to court to claim his right. For my part, I was determined not to relinquish my child to him, as such a sacrifice would have been suicidal for me.

Now the administrators of the school used to send their students out of Calcutta for the annual camps organised by the N.C.C. That particular year, they chose Ranchi as their venue. As my husband was living in Ranchi at the time, I was terrified that on one pretext or another, he would take possession of the child. I hastened to put my problem to the school authorities. They explained that all the students had to be sent to Ranchi, but that I could go to the military officer in charge and tell him my predicament. Luckily, the officer in question happened to be a Bengali. After hearing me out, he assured me that he would take full responsibility for returning my son to me safe and sound at the end of the training.

When they reached Ranchi, the two thousand cadets from St. Xavier's in their red uniforms and caps made a grand display as they marched down the street. Suddenly my son saw his father's car pass by. The father too caught sight of the boy. It was easy to distinguish my son at once because he had the complexion of a European, and so always stood out in any crowd of Indians. (Many people make the mistake of taking him for a westerner even now.)

My husband wasted no time in seeking out the military officer concerned. Presenting himself as the father, he demanded custody of the boy. As he had promised me, the officer refused to comply, saying that it was his duty to see that the entire group of school children were returned intact to the school authorities in Calcutta. My husband, after a series of futile altercations with the officer, had no choice but to withdraw.

For his part, my son had developed an intense fear of his father and his designs. But my mother's point of view was quite the reverse. "Why are you so obstinate?" she would say. "What is so frightening about the child living with his own father?"

My retort was so vehement that it might appear to be irrational — but I shall justify it presently. I said, "Don't you know why he is determined to have the boy? To take revenge on me, and then to do the worst with him so that he can marry again. See for yourself — the poor child fears him as though he were Yama himself!"

Finally my son matriculated from St. Xavier's High School. He had developed a manly figure and in many ways resembled an Englishman more than a Bengali. At college, he took a degree in Commerce and found a job in a private business concern. At the same time he cultivated a circle of friends who belonged to wealthy and well-known families. I did not interfere with his freedom, but some of his attitudes surprised me. One of his old classmates, a close friend of his, was about to be married. But my son took no interest in the marriage preparations and remained as aloof as he could. Piqued, I asked him, "Why are you so unconcerned? Your friend has even stopped coming to the house." My son did not bother to reply. When I pressed him, he answered in his usual vein, "Leave me alone, Ma."

I had to resign myself to the fact that that was his nature. Since childhood he had been a boy of few words. Even during an illness, he would lie as quietly as an animal, giving no answer to even the most repeated enquiries.

Finally when the marriage was imminent, his friend did come to the house only to find my son absent. He spoke to me instead, "Where is he? Has he decided not to come to my wedding? If it had been his marriage, I would have worked like a slave night and day. But for mine, he hasn't even shown his face once!"

I sympathized with him and asked, "Has something gone wrong between you?"

"Even if it has, is this the time to act on it?" Saying this, he left in a huff.

After a while my son returned. When I told him what had happened, he wanted to know what his friend had said. "He said that you're a most inhuman creature," I replied.

This seemed to pull him up. "He said that? He called me inhuman?"

"Why not? I would have said worse," I snapped.

It was only then that he picked up the telephone, had a long conversation with his friend, and cleared up the misunderstanding between them.

Aside from this incident, my son remained unapproachable with regard to his social life and the company he kept. He had his own job and his own income and made it clear that I had no right to meddle in his affairs. Still, when I saw the kind of friends he would bring home, I could not help feeling sorry for them on the one hand, and fear their bad influence on him on the other. Some of them drank while others took drugs. They all called me "Auntie" and when they came to our hourse they would stretch themselves out on the floor. Their health was broken, their appearance wretched, their limbs shaky — a pathetic picture of derelict youth. It was not that they were unaware of their miserable state, but simply that they could not give up their deadly addictions. Time and again I would say to my son, "Are these your friends? How can you keep company with such people?"

His response would always be along the same lines, "Why not? They don't affect me. They're very good at heart, and the only thing wrong with them is that they have acquired some bad habits that they can't give up. That's all."

There was nothing I could ever do or say to persuade him otherwise.

There was, however, one instance where my son was compelled to change his point of view and submit to mine.

In our house in Calcutta we have a big table covered with a sheet of glass under which I had placed a picture of Sri Aurobindo. One day, I noticed that my son had put his own photo beside Sri Aurobindo's. I was appalled. "What have you done?" I exclaimed. "How dare you put your photo next to Sri Aurobindo's? They are almost touching! Take it out right now —I would have done it myself but the glass is too heavy for me. Remove it immediately, for heaven's sake."

"Why, what's wrong?" he asked.

I was flabbergasted. "My God, what are you saying? Don't you know who Sri Aurobindo is?"

"I don't see anything wrong with what I've done. All your ideas are nothing but superstition. I don't believe in any of them. I'm not going to take out my picture."

"Remove it!" I cried, shocked by his arrogance. "Otherwise something terribly inauspicious will happen."

"I don't care. I won't remove it." And he left the house in a fit of temper.

The moment he was gone, I pleaded with my Thakur, "Lord, don't take offence. I have tried my best with him, but he won't listen. What more can I do?"

After about two hours, there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, I saw a gentleman standing there supporting my son by the arm. I was stunned. My son's face looked ash-grey. Asking the man in, I enquired what had happened.

He replied, "I saw from a distance that the boy was reeling as he was trying to cross the road. I thought it unlikely that he was drunk, as it was only noon, so I was sure there must be something wrong with him. Just then I saw a big lorry heading straight for him. I rushed forward and pulled him away. He was still unsteady on his legs, but he told me his address, so I was able to bring him here. Now that he is safely home, please take care of him." Saying this, he rose, excused himself, and left.

I put my son to bed. He soon fell into a deep sleep out of which he later awoke in a normal state. It was only then that I had a chance to ask him what had taken place.

"I was driving my car," he answered, "when suddenly I felt something very heavy pressing on my head. I couldn't bear it and my head began to spin. I parked the car by the roadside and got out. My legs were trembling. Suddenly, as I looked at a man standing in front of me, I discovered I could see very clearly inside him. I could even pierce through him and see things beyond. I couldn't believe it and thought I was going mad. Dazed as I was, I tried to cross the road when someone rushed up and grabbed me."

I was completely overwhelmed and demanded, "Now do you understand what it means to put your photograph beside Sri Aurobindo's? Here is proof of his enormous power. How can we poor humans even think of sitting by his side? Remove your picture immediately!"

He did so without demur.