By "my family", I mean my old mother, my sister and her children. Most unexpected was their arrival here, particularly of my sister; and most generous, I should say magnanimous, was the Mother in her acceptance of them all. My mother came first followed by my sister with her children, but they arrived in batches. When the last batch wanted to come, the Mother said, "Let us first see how these get on." After a year or so, all of them found shelter under her wide protective wings. She observed later on before Sri Aurobindo that they were a "success". I remember Amrita going about and looking for a house where the entire family could be lodged together. A new house which had recently been taken for some young sadhaks was chosen for them and the sadhaks removed to another house. It is a beautiful big building, near the Ashram with a small garden in front. They were lucky indeed to get it so easily. But some tragic happenings marred to a certain extent this good fortune.

The children were admitted to the school. One of the boys turned out a good athlete and broke the Ashram record in javelin throw and it still remains unbeaten. He was able to draw the Mother's attention by this extraordinary feat at such a young age and she seemed to have enquired how old he would be in a particular year. But most unfortunately after winning this victory he lost his mental balance. Then followed a long tale of suffering, throughout which period the Mother bestowed her constant love and care upon the poor boy. I shall take up the story again subsequently.

About my mother, I have said that she came first. She had been extremely upset, almost heart-broken when I came away leaving her all alone without sufficient resources. Now she was exceedingly happy to live with her only son after many year's separation. Before she joined me, I had heard that she had been passing through hard times. I asked the Mother if I could approach a friend of mine to give her some monetary help. She replied, "Better not." At the same time she seemed to have done something in her occult way which thenceforth rendered my mother's life quite comfortable, even cheerful. Here when she took up work in the Dining Room, the Mother remarked, "It is good to do some work." I was told that she used to compose nursery rhymes in the old style and was quite popular among the elderly ladies.

Her happiness was, however, cut short by the cruel hand of Fate. After a number of years she noticed a small innocent-looking growth on her skin. Dr. Sanyal and Dr. Satyavrata suspected it to be skin cancer. The question of sending her to Madras for an operation was discussed. When I placed it before the Mother, she said emphatically, "I don't advise it. I see plainly that she will collapse on the operation - table itself." Well, that was the end of the matter. I could do nothing else than leave her to her Fate and the Mother's care. I did not expect any miracle, neither did the Mother give any such fond hope. All this happened after Sri Aurobindo's passing.

The swelling went on increasing insidiously with- out causing any trouble. She used to go to work, come for Pranam, attend the Playground function. The Mother used to caress and bless her in her special manner. But the malady took its relentless course; the pain and suffering became more and more intense, and at last unbearable.

One day in a distressed mood I was meditating and praying before the Samadhi, when I saw Sri Aurobindo's right hand raised up above it and the palm stretched as if to mean protection, or signing to me to be fearless

she took it and placed it in front of a miniature statue of Buddha on her mantelpiece. It is still there. My mother, by the way, was a Buddhist.

    One apparently trivial incident troubles my mind even now and makes me feel at least partially responsible for her early death. This is what happened. The Mother used to distribute saris to all the ladies here and she had given my mother a bordered sari instead of a plain white one worn by widows. I told her that she would prefer a white one; in fact, it was my preference, for I could not bear the idea of an old widow putting on a broad-bordered sari, though other widows were doing so. It was my orthodoxy probably that asserted itself. The Mother accepted it and since then, a white sari had been given to her every Darshan.

    Somehow I feel that I made a big mistake in allowing my choice to intrude upon the Mother's spontaneous offer. A bordered sari could have meant a break with the past and ushered in a new lease of life. This is my belief or maybe, my superstition. At any rate it is true that we spoil the Mother's action by the intervention of our individual preferences.

    Some years after the whole family had settled, the father of the children paid a visit to the Ashram. He was unimaginably happy to see his children growing up and blossoming like spring flowers, including the boy I have mentioned before. It was beyond his wildest dreams. After a couple of months he went back and,

soon after, the news came that he had suddenly expired. When I informed the Mother about it, she said, "Oh, that is why I saw him standing beside you when I was going round your Group in the Playground. I was wondering why he was there." I myself wondered at this revelation.

Now I come to the pathetic story of my nephew. I have said that the symptoms of his mental disorder were noticed after his winning the prize. It was rumoured that the Mother had given him on the tournament day a special force by virtue of which he had broken the record. The boy himself admitted that while throwing the javelin, he felt as if it simply flew off his hand like a bird. Failing to explain this sudden unbalance and wondering how the Force could have caused it, if it did at all, I asked the Mother whether the story was true. She said that she had certainly given some force, but the adhar, being too small, had not been able to contain it. I did not know what to say. Neither do I suggest that the force was the cause of the disorder. For Sri Aurobindo has emphatically said that the force cannot do any harm unless there is some root-cause within and in his case, there certainly was.

The trouble began to increase. Everyone felt sorry for him, for apart from being a promising athlete, he was a very fine chap, sweet and simple by nature. He began to show symptoms of indiscipline in the

Group and had to be warned by the captain. Reports poured in to the Mother about his rudeness, violent conduct, etc., but she was always kind and considerate and told me more than once that the children and others must have been teasing him. She always defended him. I took much of her time, whenever disturbances broke out, in discussing what was to be done, how to treat him, and the like.

Meanwhile Panditji, a great Tantric yogi of the South, visited the Ashram. He was supposed to possess extraordinary occult powers could and cure even madness: we knew from Sri Aurobindo that madness was caused by possession by evil spirits. Many fantastic stories were going round about Panditji's powers. I asked the Mother if I could take his help; she gave her approval. I took the boy to Panditji and told him the story of the javelin-throw, adding that there was a family taint of insanity and that the house in which he lived seemed to be haunted. Panditji expressed his desire to see the house and we took him there. He confirmed that the house was haunted; there were two or three small beings, one of which had possessed the boy, but since it was an intermittent possession, he could cure him. He prescribed some kriyas and a daily presence at his residence. I used to report everything to the Mother and she would listen with keen interest.

There was, however, no appreciable improvement even after months of treatment. Finally one day in a

fit of bad temper, the boy smashed a tennis racket during the game. This set off the spark: some boys of his Group caught hold of him and gave him a sound beating which exasperated the boy tenfold. I reported it to the Mother at once. She was extremely annoyed at the conduct of the boys, but meanwhile sent me to Dr. Sanyal so that he might do something to make him quiet. Sanyal resorted to the same means that we use in such cases: he gave a maximum dose of morphia injection and asked me to keep watch over the patient. Morphia had no effect, the patient could not be induced to sleep.

The next morning, when we had gathered as usual for the Pranam, the Group captain was either called or he came himself, I do not remember which. The Mother had now her chance. She started at once to rebuke him in a very severe tone for serious failure in his duty. Knowing very well that the patient was not normal in his mind, to make a display of brutal physical force in a mass against a single boy was the worst kind of cowardice she could ever imagine, etc., etc.. She went on battering in this vein for more than five minutes before a group of about a dozen persons. The atmosphere was tenser silent: all eyes were cast down. We saw and heard the veritable Kali in her wrath. The captain took it all without a word of self-defence. At the end the Mother patted his head and cheek. Yet, on previous occasions she had praised him

highly for his leadership. Once during the 'forties when he had some marks on his face left by chicken-pox, the Mother told Sri Aurobindo, "They will spoil the fine beauty of his face." She sent him a special French cream to efface those marks. Such was the Mother's solicitude for all of us. She rarely rebuked any one except those who had an intimate relation with her. Then she discussed with us in her normal manner what was to be done about the boy. It was decided that he should be sent to the Bangalore Mental Hospital. All arrangements made, he was packed off in two or three days.

He remained there for a couple of months and improved a lot. Following the instructions of the Director, we brought him back and put him, with the Mother's advice, in the Lake Estate far away from the Ashram atmosphere. There he could stay alone and work in the fields. The Mother sent special orders to the man in charge to look after him well and allow him to work independently of any control. Things went on fairly well for some months. The Mother was kept constantly informed.

After this quiescent period, symptoms of the malady began to show themselves again. Agitation, ranting for hours, loss of sleep, etc., etc., with intermittent quietness, lucidity - these were the phases he passed through till one day he attacked the man in charge and hit him on the head with a stick. Realising

the magnitude of the crime he ran away from the place. News reached us with lightning speed; the Ashram was in suspense. After many hours he arrived home in a subdued mood.

There was no question now of his going back to the Lake, neither was there any other place where he could live in isolation. No other choice was left but to send him back to East Pakistan, his native place, for some months at least. He was accompanied by his mother and his elder brother. Be it noted, all the expenses including his stay at Bangalore were borne by the Mother.

At last I was at peace and so was the Ashram; but for the poor boy life was hell in Pakistan. Beating, torture, being put in chains, were his lot. Besides, be caused a terrible strain on the scanty income of the family. The Mother sanctioned a monthly allowance of Rs. 100/- to ease the situation to a certain extent. When there was a question of putting him in an asylum, she said, "He will die there." But on the other hand, when the boy's mother out of sheer frustration thought of sending him back here, the Mother replied firmly, "Impossible! he must not come back."

Yet he did! To put the story in brief: during the civil war in East Pakistan, he, accompanied by his elder brother made his escape. Trudging along a perilous route from the farthest end of Chittagong and crossing the border at Tripura, he arrived one day at

the Ashram. When the Mother was told about it, she exclaimed, "Good Lord!" That's all. So, the boy's destiny brought him back. After this, there were minor troubles, and complaints were made to the Mother against him, she paid no heed to them.

But the threat came from an unexpected quarter : the Central Government sent an order that all the refugees had to go back. This was a thunderbolt, - "darkness at noon" for the entire family. Now the Divine came to the rescue. The Mother took up the charge and directed Counouma, the Managing director of the Ashram, to try all means possible to keep the boy here. He was a member of the Ashram, by mistake was enlisted as a refugee, as he had to take shelter in a refugee camp at the border. Surendra Mohan Ghose helped us in the matter. As a result, the Government kept quiet. But after the Mother's passing, all of a sudden another injunction from the Government arrived to the effect that the boy would have to leave within two weeks. The Police would come and take charge of him. This was the unkindest cut of all. Ruin and disaster were writ large on the life of the boy and the family. Which way to turn? The Mother was no more with us. "O, the difference" between the subtle Presence and the physical! In a hurried consultation with Counouma we hatched a plan that we must plead for more time on the ground of the boy's health. A medical certificate was produced and a six

But it is not all this that played the decisive role. What happened was something unique, inconceivable, at least for my doubting mind. I was so tormented by the prospect of sending back the boy that I lost my sound sleep. I prayed and prayed. One night I woke up suddenly and heard myself uttering in an extremely fervent manner, "Divine Grace! Divine Grace," and went on chanting it automatically for minutes together. It was as if I had been invoking the Divine Grace in my subconscious or subliminal sleep and it broke into a waking passionate cry. I knew then that the prayer had been heard.

I have divulged this secret with some hesitation to testify to the fact that the Divine is with us, we are not left alone. This is not the only instance of the sort and, I am sure, many others have felt the wings of Divine Protection spread over their lives.

I have dwelt quite at length on this single fascinating episode to serve as a glaring example of the Mother's solicitude for all her children, irrespective of any distinction. But the battle has not come to an end. Very strangely indeed, the Government is still pursuing its point and we are fighting.^*

^*We are much relieved and happy to read the Janata government's proclamation that Bangladesh refugees will not be compelled to return against their will.

found a habitation in the house, we thought of changing it but no suitable alternative was found and my nieces were extremely reluctant to leave such a beautiful dwelling. They said that they were not afraid of any spirit since the Mother's protection was with them. When the Mother heard about it she said, "If they have faith, they can remain." The Mother also enquired if she had visited the house. The answer was, no! Then she said that on one particular day incense sticks should be burnt and some mantra recited, after which there would be no trouble. And there has been none!

Lastly the story of my eldest niece, in brief; She too had received special favour from the Mother. Her marriage took place in the Ashram and the Mother blessed the couple. When she had a son, she baptised him by giving the name Saral - simple. She agreed to pay half the house-rent and allowed free boarding to the family. When my niece went to visit her father-in-law in Bengal and gave birth to a second son, the Mother remarked to me, "Oh, one more!" After some months, their stay in Bengal proved a trial, even unsafe, especially for the children. My niece wanted to come away. But the Mother kept quiet. A few months passed; another letter came urgent, frantic, adding that the older child wanted to return. As soon as the Mother heard the mention of the child, she relented and said, "Look for a house and ask them to start at once."

I was astonished by her change of attitude and inferred that the child's cry must have touched the Mother's heart. Since then, they have been here; the children are in the school and her husband has by the Mother's help got a job in a local mill.

This is how the Grace of the Mother flows and spreads all over the world and particularly over those who have come under the wings of her Love and Protection. I am sure each one of us has such stories to tell and if they were gathered together they would make a large wonderful collection full of instances of her

, Grace beyond any reason. Though some have come out, still a large number remains unpublished.