IN MEMORY OF AMRITA SPEAKING about Amrita, the first picture that comes to one's mind is his sense of humour, even at the age of 70 years, his wisdom, experience and the intense responsibility of yoga, instead of blunting his sense of humour only enhanced it as time passed. Here I could not draw a similarity between him and Sri Aurobindo. I once asked Sri Aurobindo about the source of his tremendous humour to which he replied in a mysterious manner 'Raso vai Sa' (He is indeed the Rasa). It looks as though Amrita had found an access to that secret. In the beginning, as I didn't know him closely, I was not aware of his deep sense of humour. Later his 'divine levity' totall

VISIONS AND VOICES EVOLUTION OF BEAUTY  I Beauty standing motionless in meditation is beauty of form, Beauty moving and shining in meditation is beauty of life, Beauty thinking in meditation is beauty of thought— The Spirit of beauty is thus standing, moving and thinking  from the far off beyonds. II Man first sought for the beautiful in the body of creation draped in all forms. She was too unmoving for him and was standing wondrous and elusive. Then defeated in his quest he sought for her in the quick life of all creation. There too she was too quick for him and was moving wondrous and elusive. Then aga

ON AMRITA* ONE of Amrita's nieces informed me that 1995 would mark his birth-centenary. This piece of news has prodded my memory. Here are some reminiscences of him, a little rambling, I am afraid, but as true to fact as I can make them. They are not selective with an eye to presenting him solely in a rosy light. He was a frank unpretentious friend and what I am writing is faithful to his own temper. Most of this sketch is based on his own report of things. Here and there that report has entailed some digressive but relevant passages on others. I am starting with the day I reached Pondicherry: December 16, 1927—in my twenty-third year. When the metre-gauge train from Egmore tou

AMRITA—THE EVER LIVING ONE WE JOINED the Ashram in 1937 and we were then living at the end of Rue Dumas, opposite our present Park Guest house. We knew only a few Ashramites like Amal, Purani, Ambu etc. I did not meet Amrita then. In 1940 the Mother sent us to Delhi to work with the Civil Aviation Department of the Government to help in the war effort. The Mother brought us back in 1941 and we were given a house near the Ashram, opposite the Library, the Red House. She also gave me the work that had to be done for Golconde. Then I really came in contact with Amrita and I liked him at once. He took me to the place where I had to work, a place with only a tiled sh

-02_Extract from the Mother^s Talk.htm EXTRACT FROM THE MOTHER'S TALK 17 May 1969 ... for Amrita [who left his body on 31 January, following a heart attack], it was something else again. Amrita used to come in spite of his illness, he came to see me every day; he came up in the morning and sat there, and he came up once again in the evening (you saw what labour it was for him to climb stairs). Then when he left—the doctor had told him: "You can't go upstairs for a month"; and afterwards, he came during the daytime: he didn't accept it, he left his body and came—he came right straight to me. But then, with him, it was in his form, but more subtle, but it was very definite [Mother draws a contour outl

ON REMEMBERING AMRITA-DA WHENEVER we try to relive the memories of these great men—or should I say great souls—the memories that they have left behind for us, we must always remember that with one's mind or outer mental perspective one cannot understand or perceive the real soul. When we meet these great beings, we look at them each with our own limited individual ignorant consciousness, that is, through our own unconsciousness. Then again, these great souls, when they come on earth they take up a human form representing an aspect of human consciousness or terrestrial consciousness. And naturally this outer form is an aspect of that ignorance. All souls, big or

AMRITA-DA (Born: 19.9.1895, Died: 31.1.1969) IN A VILLAGE about 15 km north-west of Pondicherry, a boy called Aravamudachari heard the name Aurobindo along with other great names like Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Bepin Chandra Pal and Lala Lajpatrai. It was the time when Independence, Foreign Rule, Slavery were the cries that filled the skies and those names reached the ears of the village-boy too, being continually talked of in that village and all around. But strangely enough, and probably not all that strange after all, since decreed by the Divine, Aravamudachari's heart and soul were caught by only one name...just to hear that name—Aurobindo—was enough. It remained a mystery

OLD LONG SINCE (By Amrita) (1) In our village and all around, four names of four great personages were being continually talked of. It was the time when Independence, Foreign Rule, Slavery were the cries that used to fill the sky. And the four great names that reached our, ears in this connection were Tilak, Bipinchandra Pal, Lajpatrai (Lal-Bal-Pal) and Aurobindo. Of these only one name caught my heart and soul. Just to hear the name — Aurobindo — was enough. All the four persons were pioneers in the service of the country, great leaders of the front rank. Why then did one name only out of the four touch me exclusively? For ma

-01_Publisher^s Note.htm AMRITA BIRTH CENTENARY - 1995 *************************************************** Amrita A Sketch by the Mother ***************************************************** Amrita with the Mother ***************************************************** Publisher's Note This book commemorates the life and work of K. Amrita, one of the earliest disciples of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. Originally named Aravamudachari, Amrita was born in 1895 into a Brahmin family in a village near Pondicherry in South India. As a boy in his teens he heard the name of Sri Aurobindo as one of the leaders of the freedom struggle going on in the countr

-08_Amrita(A Poem).htm PART TWO AMRITA The Creator in His dreaming has created this immortal thing in creation, Figuring as a common creature, forgetful of his Self: A mystic reason makes Him hide His own form and nature, Ever at labour in working out the Impossible: To transfigure Nature, to establish the Transcendent here on the bosom of material Earth, To feed the divine sacrificial Fire with this human body, With this bounded frame. Lo, the timeless hero worker with his flaming faith, Indifferent to the rude impacts of Reality, Dreaming of the victorious Mother's wonder dreams, Shaping in his heart of hearts the golden garde