14

"She Was with Us; We Felt

the Heaven Was with Us"

Deepshika Reddy

I saw the Mother for the first time when I was 13 years old, in 1959. I came from the Delhi branch of the Ashram. The day was the 1^st of December, and the Mother was distributing Prosperity to all the Ashramites in the room above the Reception hall, which is the one you see just as you enter the Ashram. When I went to her, she smiled and gave me a small soap cake as prasad. To the rest of the students she gave a delicate pink rose flower to each.

The first memory and impression that I have of the Mother is something very ethereal because she was fully clad in a spotless white sari. Light in various hues through the tinted glass panes of the upper part of the large middle door—especially violet-were reflecting on her white sari and somehow it seemed like a dream to me. It did not feel as though I really met and saw the Mother whom we had been worshipping at home for so long!

We all came out and down to the courtyard, did pranam to the Samadhi and started walking towards the playground. Those days our radius was between the new Delhi House, Samadhi, Playground, Dining hall, Flower Room, library and the tennis ground. We all circled within this area year after year almost. As we came out, my friends were curious to know what the Mother had given me. When I said that it was soap, first they got quite upset as they all got a rose each. As one can expect, kids did not have much value for the rose initially. After a while one of them said, "You know the Mother is God, is it not? She knows very well that you do not bathe properly daily. So she gave you a piece of soap. We do not need it."

We were in the Ashram for a month. That time in the Delhi

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school, Dr. Chamanlal Gupta was our teacher, philosopher and guide. He brought us all by the train to Pondicherry. We used to live in the Delhi House, which is now turned into a beautiful guesthouse, as you all know. It was quite close by, and from the next day onwards we were coming for the balcony darshan in the morning by 6 a.m. That is how it started. In a way I was especially lucky as my birthday is on Christmas I could go to her on Christmas day and, as I was young then, I used to get lots of cakes. We kept coming a few times and thus a deep bond was struck with her. I did not understand anything about the yoga or philosophy. We just loved to come to Pondicherry. After we returned, we kept contact with her through letters whenever needed. During that time, in one of her letters, she mentioned that I would become a teacher. Fortunately, I did not have to think too much about my future. I knew what I had to do and I was equipping myself towards that. To teach in the outside world for the school levels, one needs qualifications like Bachelor of Education and Master of Education, etc.

Ten years passed by, and I was completing my studies. By then I had written to her twice asking whether I could come and settle in the Ashram. Both the times she refused me. Kireet bhai told me later what she had exactly said, "The time has not yet come for her." I was the eldest at home, and in Indian houses girls in early twenties are given in marriage. One did not wait too long to get married those days. I wanted to join the Ashram, and I thought I loved her so much but she did not even reply to my letter!

Then in 1969, in summer, on 11^th May, I went for her darshan and gave her a small slip, in which I wrote that she had not yet permitted me to stay there and in the meanwhile I might, miserably, get married and go away; was it not sad! The slip was a small laundry chit on which before going up to her I scribbled these thoughts. Now, when I see Ananda's (my husband's) letters, so many in number, in his measured handwriting, to the Mother as they carried so much respect and reverence to her,—I realize my shabbiness, casual attitude and carelessness. I almost pushed that slip into her delicate palm and came down.

It was, that day, the birthday of the Comer House. It was quite a celebration. In the afternoon at around 3.00 or 3.30

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p.m. Nolini-da came and said, "You have become an Ashramite from today. Mother said this." I was overwhelmed and cried for a long time; 0, I could not believe my ears at all! Finally, a small circle seemed complete.

Then I happily joined the Ashram and became an Ashramite in May 1969. As the Mother had mentioned in her letter earlier, I expected quite naturally to work as a teacher, that too in the Ashram school, which was my dream. But, meanwhile, I developed a bad throat. I was worried that I could not sing properly. She said that it was not the singing I should worry about but that I should not talk for one full month. I was absolutely shocked! Then I wrote to her asking whether it would be possible for anyone to stop talking for a month! Then she wrote back sternly saying that I had not to talk for one full year! She was very serious. I could not be a teacher without talking! I had to join the Corner House. I was quite disappointed. I did not know any cooking. I had to learn everything from zero. I got so disheartened that it took me two and a half months to finally decide whether to accept the long-cherished Ashramiteship at all!

At that time it was very difficult for me because I was not at all surrendered in my attitude. It appeared to me as though teaching was the respectable work and cooking had no value. As I did not even know how to peel a potato properly or mix the dough, my co-workers used to laugh at me and I used to feel hurt. But I was able to learn everything in a short time, and I enjoyed great friendship with all of them. I became one of the head cooks cooking nine times a week for 350 children or more each time. In fact, I started loving cooking and enjoyed it. Our greatest attraction was to cook on Thursdays because on that day food would be sent to the Mother. On Thursdays I always cooked non-vegetarian, either chicken or fish, also lamb at times. Someone else was cooking the vegetarian items. When the food was taken to her, she would not eat the food; she would look at it, bless it, and occasionally take a spoon of it close to her, I was told. Later the food would be returned to the Corner House for all of us to partake as prasad by 1.15 p.m. We used to run for it.

A year and more passed by and I felt as if I was born to be a cook only. I got so much involved in it. I realised it later that this work was the most needed for me. I was not so easy. It was

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her grace that prepared me for life. After this experience of the Corner House, I became a changed person who could sweep the road, clean the gutter with a smile—no problem whatsoever. My life was made, and I truly feel so full of gratitude for that.

However, one day I wrote to her asking about my teaching work. She replied that I should go to Auroville school, which had just started. I was once again shocked because I thought all along that the Ashram school would be my teaching place. I could not believe that always such contrary things had to happen with me alone! Of course, I loved Auroville; I had come all the way from Delhi to participate in the inauguration of Auroville in 1968, February just before my M.A. final. The Charter of Auroville' fascinated me as something most unique on this earth. But still I was shocked. I needed to be much more humble and devoted; hence the battering perhaps continued.

I came to Auroville to see the school and have the first experience of the school; till then I had not replied to the Mother. Slowly, perhaps I was learning to become a little humble. The sharp edges were slowly getting smoothened. I went to the Last School and what did I see? Rod was sitting in the middle of seven or eight children and a dog. Two of them were playing, one was playing the flute, one was sleeping.... the dog too was sleeping. Rod himself was gazing upwards towards the sky... I fell from the treetop! Is this the classroom and Mr. Rod the teacher? Oh Maa!! I was used to formal education and whatever kind of a free-progress system I knew about contained a lot of order and classroom discipline. I was so shocked with all of those together that I approached Rod and asked him, "What are you teaching, Sir?" He replied in a blissful manner, "... experiencing joy...."

Next day I wrote to the Mother that I was ready to join the Aspiration School on the August 15, 1971. Finally, I decided to join and partake of the joy that Rod was experiencing. We were— to name a few among the first teachers selected by the Mother - Ananda, Shraddhavan, Shantiben and myself. We had a lot of 'growing' together. There was no syllabus, no proper library, classrooms were being shared and a few were also being built. We were teaching in Sanskrit School and the Last School. A creche was started simultaneously. I was teaching history, Sanskrit and Hindi at that time. I always wanted to become a

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good history teacher, as I had a very boring teacher teaching history to us. I had written to the Mother about it once and she told me that I would be a good teacher. I also taught music— Indian music. Rose, Martha and Miriam were my very good music students.

Mitch, an American, used to be a very good music teacher teaching wonderful folk songs and English songs to us. We used to sing loudly during nights. Those were the early days in Aspiration School. There were not too many communities like today. A few people stayed in the Matrimandir camp; a few at the Forecomers, Utility and Fredrick's place and here and there. Aspiration was the largest community. Not too many people. Auroville was very young. Nowadays we see visitors and people coming to stay temporarily. At that time we burned all our bridges and came here for life only to serve this beautiful ideal of living together. We used to teach what we felt was the best for that kind of a mixed group of children from France, Germany, America along with the children from Kuilapalayam. I remember that I taught from some books of the Ashram school. Ashram had always been very co-operative and generous. I used to bring packets of medicine from Nripen-da, the Ashram doctor for our Auroville children. Slowly the Health Centre came up quite efficiently. We made small groups of children on a certain capability basis and taught them the languages, mathematics, history, geography, painting, music, dancing, etc. For dancing Anuben used to come from the Ashram periodically.

I also started a cooking class with children after Pour Tous started to function and it was quite a hit. We allowed our students, at times, to choose their teachers and gave quite a lot of liberty in terms of learning. Learning and teaching was nothing but joy. What Rod said regarding "experiencing joy" was wholly true. On rainy days, we would stop our classes and go for long walks on the ravines or even to the seaside. We had very flexible timetable and the groups were named, and I still have a big timetable written in detail, signed by the Mother as approved by her. All sports activities are also written in the timetable. If on certain days children wanted to play cricket for the whole morning, we allowed them, provided they made up their study at another time. Regular classes, of course, were held in general. But sports were more organized and the whole physical

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education was more orderly. Ananda organized the sports on the Ashram lines. He used to take 'marching', Frederick took basketball, etc. We had a lovely time. Sometimes on Sunday mornings, Ashram groups used to come and we used to have competitive games with them. For studies, we had no tension. There was no homework system at that time.

In the beginning, there was no kitchen in Aspiration; I mean a proper big one. Food used to come to us by bullock-cart; also vegetables and fruits. There was also a van. Sometimes the van would arrive late. Students would feel very hungry after their games in the evening. It is to meet the need of these children that I bought a heater to boil some 'chana' (chic peas) or some vegetables to give them. Slowly, the main kitchen (near the tamarind grove) was started. We used to go to the mango grove and play or even take classes with small groups of children. Sometimes in those beginning days, there often used to be no water in Aspiration. Then I used to take the children to the single tap available near the kitchen, give everyone a bath, wash clothes and return by walking back to Aspiration. We used to carry our buckets, mugs, etc., for the bath.

Then it was informed to the Mother that some parents wanted to keep their children in a hostel in Aspiration school. I was the first guardian with four students for me to look after in a three-room capsule in Aspiration. Mother told me to teach and live in Aspiration but remain an Ashramite.

Those were the days when the Matrimandir was being built. We would go early mornings and evenings for working on the four pillars. Buses used to come from Ashram also. We did not involve the small children in this work. We elders used to go early in the morning after taking black tea—around 4.30 or 5.00 a.m.—mostly do digging, etc., and return by 7.00 a.m to go to school, full of red dust. We had no servants or laundry. We had to wash all our clothes ourselves that turned red. We had such wonderful time those days—the sunrises and sunsets, so many different kinds of birds chirping at specific hours of the day, long walks on moonlit night to Utility, bonfire at the daybreak—we never wanted to go back to Pondicherry at all. During the harvesting season, we would take our kids to the Green Belt, where Joss was, and engage them in practical work while the lesson was in progress. They learnt about pollination

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and so many other things there. Many of the trees you see on that road were planted by our children then.

I was not only a guardian and teacher, I used to eat with the kids, play, teach them history through dramatics, music through chanting, cooking jam with the mangoes plucked from the trees by the children themselves. It was a living together that taught us many more things beyond just the lessons. Sometimes we used to call Richard, the renowned botany teacher of the Ashram school, and he would walk endlessly with the kids, picking up twigs, flowers, seeds, leaves, etc., teaching us their significance, importance, usage, etc.

Those days, I used to write letters to the Mother whenever I had any difficulty or a problem. I was not like Shantiben and Ananda who had regular correspondence with her. We came to know so many things through their letters. Whenever we wanted to take the children for a picnic outside or stay out for a night or two, we always wrote to her and only with her permission we could go. Without her approval and blessings we never ventured anywhere. Once, I remember she refused our proposal for a night out somewhere nearby. Very often she used to send some reply or messages that used to be put up on the notice board in the Aspiration kitchen, meant for all people in general. We used to very enthusiastically go to read those in the mornings.

She was with us; we felt the heaven was with us. We used to think that one would not be able to breathe outside Auroville, perhaps—so deeply were we identified with Auroville then!

Through the dramas of the ancient Babylonian or Egyptian culture that I used to get enacted by the kids in my history class, I think we used to feel that Auroville ever existed on this earth from ancient times and we were experiencing the joy of that honey in this life.

Music brought down celestial yearnings, song

Held the merged heart absorbed in rapturous depths,

Linking the human with the cosmic cry;...

Book IV, 2

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