Glimpses Into My Personal Life

Introduction, Parentage, My stay in Karachi, Visit to a Muslim Saint, Saint My Sadhana put to a test, Tulja Bhavani’s wonderful image, Holy Mother Barbara and my education, My operation, Kindness of Shri Rajaji, Kalyana Kalpataru, Precious presents from Bhagavan, My loneliness after the Mabanirvana of Bhagavan, Bhagavan’s personal assurance, Memories of F.S.Taleyarkhan, My husband’s activities, Differences of opinion with my husband, My husband’s death, About Dr.Wanless and Dr.Vail, Sohrab’s birth, Sohrab comes to the Ashram, Mother....you are right’, Visit to St.Alphonso, Sister Rita and her husband visit Ramanashram, My mother gets a direct experience

Introduction

Several friends suggested to me that I should get down in book form the various experiences I have had in my life. I was particularly exhorted to do this by Dr.S.Radhakrishnan. But I have maintained no diary or notes of the events of my life. The stories recorded in these pages were originally recounted by me to Mrs. Mason of Australia, Shri Devaraja Mudaliar, Shri B.K.Shah and several other friends on various occasions. I am no writer and make no pretence to literary gifts of any kind, My devotion to Bhagavan alone has urged me to record these experiences in my spiritual quest. I feel certain that He is guiding me as I set down a few of these personal memories. I shall feel amply rewarded if these pages serve to help and guide others in their quest for the true happiness that comes from the realization of the spirit in man.

Parentage

I was born in an affluent Parsi family well settled in what was then the Presidency of Bombay. My father had considerable properties in both Surat and Poona. My grandfather was an Officer in the service of H.E.H. the Nizam of Hyderabad. My father too joined the Nizam’s service. He was the eldest son of his parents. He had a younger brother who passed away at a very young age. My mother was Shirinbai, the daughter of Bhikaji Patel. She was a very beautiful woman, blessed with long, luxurious black hair reaching down to her ankles, and large black eyes. We were a large family, five sisters and two brothers, the eldest being my brother. I was born on 24th December, 1898, in Hyderabad-Deccan, on the anniversary day of my grandmother (Piroja Patel) and was given her name. My childhood was on the whole uneventful except that I seem to have been seriously ill in the very first year of my life and to have survived the illness more through the devotion and prayers of my parents than through the skill of medical attendants of those days.

My stay in Karachi

My father’s aunt, his mother’s sister, had married rather late in life a very rich gentleman of Karachi. Being childless she asked my father to let me stay with her, I was accordingly brought up by her for quite a few years as her own child. I was admitted to a Gujarati School there, and my uncle and aunt had a great many plans for me — even for my marriage to a wealthy gentleman who later became a renowned Congress leader. They wanted to celebrate my Navjote ceremony on a grand scale, according to their ideas and plans. They desired my parents to execute a written document, renouncing all their rights as parents of me in their favour. But some differences developed between my parents on the one hand and my aunt and uncle on the other, and in the end after the Navjote ceremony was over, my parents did not allow me to go back to Karachi with my aunt. This parting from my foster parents caused me great grief, because I had learnt to love them deeply. I had a similar bond of love for my servants, friends and relations at Karachi. Love has been the keynote of my existence all my life. I feel this is a step towards heaven. Real poverty is not the poverty of material wealth, but the lack of love for fellow beings, the lack of kindliness according to me. Kind thoughts are of God and flow from Him. My love of Bhagavan Himself was prompted not because He was a Jivanmukhta but because He represented to me the very embodiment of Love — in its finest, purest and noblest aspects.

Visit to a Muslim Saint

My grandfather had a vast, spacious house, rather like a fort. In this large ancestral house in Surat, my father, Kruchshaw E.Mody, would rise to the music of the Nagara. My house was known as the house of the Khan Bahadurs. Simple, honest and straightforward, my father was well-known for his integrity and character and faithfulness in carrying out the orders of his superiors while in service, and was most esteemed on this account. He was truthful, incorruptible and absolutely honest in all his dealings. Deeply religious by nature, he was not only tolerant but respected other religions to the extent of helping financially in renovating dilapidated temples and Mazars. He had varied experiences in his long life as a high official in the service of H.E.H. the Nizam of Hyderabad. While on tour of the district under his charge, my parents used a tonga, since cars were unknown in those days. The horses my father had were generally pure white in colour. On one occasion while father was on tour, he was passing through some jungle and the orderly informed my father that a great Muslim saint was nearby, and inquired if he would like to yisit him, Father, always punctual in keeping his appointments, did not like the idea of breaking his appointment with the patwaris and peshkars, awaiting him at the place he had scheduled to visit, and refused to go to see the saint. But he had hardly proceeded about a mile further on, when the tonga they were travelling in broke down inevitably causing delay in their onward journey. The orderly had to go to a nearby village to produce another tonga. My father then thought of calling on the Muslim saint, the orderly had earlier spoken of. When my parents went to him they were warmly received by the tall, white-haired, grave-looking saint, He greeted my father with the words: “You had to come even if you did not want to, as food had already been cooked for you.” My mother was greatly attracted to this saint who reminded her of Christ in his long loose robes and beard and was greatly pleased to be told by the saint that she would be blessed with five children and she could meet several of God’s good men in life. All of which has proved true.

My Sadhana put to a Test

In his last days, my father was suffering from cancer. He was: operated on by Dr.Parmar of Bombay. One day the nurse attending on him suddenly wanted the doctor to be sent for urgently. It seemed to her that my father was going down fast after the operation, The good doctor, who was quite like a member of our family, confirmed the nurse’s view on arrival. The thought then occurred to me in a flash that I should put my sadhana I had performed at Buddha Gaya for some years earlier to a test. I immediately took out my rosary and put it against my father’s heart. Then I prayed in silence with eyes closed to the Lord Siddhartha and within a few minutes, father regained breath and pulse. The nurse told him that his daughter’s prayers had revived him. My father embraced me and blessed me saying that I was more a son than a daughter to him and that I would achieve great things in life. Not only physically but in other respects also I resemble my father. Besides I am quite a headstrong and impulsive type, like my father. I hope I am as honest, straightforward and helpful as he. Father passed away eight days later on the 6th of January 1936 at the age of 68. My mother too gave me her blessings in similar terms towards the close of her life in February 1967. Perhaps these pages are more to my mother’s blessings for though friends pressed me to set down my experience as early as 1939, I was unable to do so till now.

Tulja Bhavani’s Wonderful Image

So it happened that I returned to my parents at Tuljapur. This is a place notorious for its Bhils who had made a name for themselves as robbers. These primitive people before setting out on their nocturnal expeditions, worship the Goddess Tulja Bhavani. In due course the temple acquired my valuable and precious pieces of jewellery. My father who was the Collector of this place once asked us to get dressed in our finest for a visit to this temple. I did not relish the idea of visiting a place where they worshipped stone; nevertheless, we visited the temple more because we wanted to see the temple than because my father’s commands had to be obeyed. There was considerable pomp and ceremony when we went to the temple. At the temple standing between my parents I peeped at the Devi through the interspace between them. What I saw was not the idol but a beautiful woman dressed in the finest jewels and silks, laughing kindly at me to tell me that She was not just a stone image but an actual living, powerful Being. Did the Devi mean to tell me that I was wrong when I told our Muslim ayah that it was pointless to go to see a stone image? But I was too dazed to talk and was silent. The look the Goddess gave me was such as to make me think that the Goddess was all love and that only women are capable of such Love. I sometimes think that God can only be a woman, as no man is capable of such love.

On father’s transfer from Tuljapur we came to Kandhar which is about 40/50 miles from Chaliagaon. It can be reached only by bullock cart. This place too was infested by Bhils. There we stayed for three years. A sister was born here and it fell to me to look after this infant sister. I was about 10 or 11 years of age when my mother fell seriously ill and had to be taken to Bombay for treatment. Mother was jn Bombay for nearly 8 months and during this period I and my infant sister stayed with a friend of my father’s. The other children were quartered with other friends. I became the Joy of this house as the grand old lady of the house had only grown-up children, four sons and a daughter, about 25 years of age. Maiji, as we called her, requested my father to leave me with her and he did. During this period something of an education was imparted to me by a private tutor who would come home for just an hour a day. My mother did not believe in such education for women and had not paid any attention to our studies when we were with her. My parents returned to Bombay two or three years later to consider offers for my marriage. They thought of a wealthy mill owner, while Maiji favoured a very smart and enlightened young man who visited her often. My mother did not like Maiji’s choice as he was not as wealthy as the one she had in view. When I was consulted in the matter, I agreed with Maiji’s choice and this made my mother rather cross with me. I got engaged to be married when I was about 12 or 13 years of age but the marriage ceremony itself was postponed, as he insisted that I must be well educated too, since all in their family were highly educated.

Holy Mother Barbara and my Education

During this period, I went on a visit to my maternal uncle at Versoya, some 30 miles from Bombay. We got into the train at Grant Road, and into our compartment came a grand old lady, a beautiful nun, who sat by my side and was shocked to learn that such a nice and beautiful child like myself had no formal schooling and could not talk in English. This mother was a forceful personality and talked to my parents in such a way that by the time she got off the train at Bandra she had persuaded my father to accompany her and see the convent school on the very day. Accordingly, we went there and saw the convent school and my father agreed to send me to that school. I and my sisters went there after a fortnight and were admitted to that school. Rita, being quite an infant then I had to be more a foster-mother to her.

Reverend Mother Barbara, the nun who had met us on the train and was the cause of our entry into the convent, kindly arranged for me to be coached by another sister who was a former Italian princess, as I was considered too old to start my education from the lowest class. I was inconsolable when after about 2 years, Mother Barbara sent for me to tell me that she was being transferred to another convent and that another Mother Superior will be taking charge of the convent at Bandra. I refused to stay in that convent without Mother Barbara and so we came to the Byculla Convent where we were taken as parlour boarders. The Mother here was as fond of me as Mother Barbara had been and would often tell me that I belonged to her and not to the world. The love of Mother Barbara and of this Mother for me was such that I felt like becoming a nun. I felt myself extraordinarily lucky to be so loved by these saintly nuns.

My father told my fiance to hurry on with the wedding and it came off on 14th March 1914. My sister-in-law, Mrs. Meher F.S.Taleyarkhan, became a great friend and nearly another mother to me. Some unkind facts overtook my father and I had thereafter to look after my two sisters, one of whom got married in Bangalore to Dinna Belgaumwalla. After my wedding I was in great society entertaining and moving about in high circles, but inwardly I was not quite happy, my mind being not quite at ease with this way of life. I would often spend some time just sitting quiet and in prayer. This mood of mine could never be appreciated either by my husband or by any of my relations. When I commenced my sadhana at Buddha Gaya in 1928 and later on came to Ramanashram in 1937 the differences of outlook widened considerably. Although in society my friends were more loving, yet I was after inner freedom. Life is not meant to be hoarded — Life is meant to be given in love.

My Operation

I am uncertain what year it was, perhaps 1947, I was having pains in my abdomen, which did not respond to the homeopathic remedies administered by my friend Mr.Cohen. So, with Bhagavan’s permission, I went to Bangalore for examination and treatment at the Curzon Hospital there. X-ray diagnosis revealed a big lump on the left side. My friends, Doctors Wanless and Vail, had warned me earlicr that the disease was likely to recur and spread. The doctors at this hospital in Bangalore did not however take me into their confidence in the matter of the diagnosis, but were arranging amongst themselves privately to perform another operation for the removal of this growth, and were consulting my friend Shri Mirza Raza in that regard.

Kindness of Shri Rajaji

Just about then a letter from Shri Rajaji, then Governor General, was redirected to me from Tiruvannamalai and in reply thereto I had informed him of my condition. So kind and solicitous of my welfare was Shri Rajaji that even when he occupied the highest position in India, he found time to write to the doctors in charge to bestow close attention on me even as if he himself were the patient. This letter came to the notice of the then Dewan of Mysore, Sir A.Ramaswami Mudaliar, and he visited me at the hospital. These factors made the doctors evince deep interest in my case. I was alone, none of my relations were at my bedside. This operation would be the eighth of a series of operations I had undergone in life, But the doctors encouraged me and made me feel quite at home in the hospital.

Suspecting that I may have to undergo this operation, I wrote to Bhagavan praying to Him to grant that I may close my eyes in peace rather than undergo this the eighth operation of a series. When this letter reached Bhagavan He read it as usual in the Old Hall and there He made kind mention of me to the people present. According to Bhagavan’s directions, Mauni — bless his soul — wrote to ask me to come back to Tiruvannamalai assuring me that things would be all right.

The Dewan and the doctors all assured me that the operation arranged to take place within the next two days would relieve me of my pain and that I could go back, fit and healthy. I told them that I had decided against the operation and showed them the photo of Bhagavan which was on my table near the bed. He, I said, was my doctor and that in accordance with His directions, I would be returning to Tiruvannamalai without undergoing the operation. Dear reader, believe me that I, who for ten days earlier, could not retain any food, that day enjoyed toast and scrambled eggs without any pain or discomfort. That evening I attended a cinema show also with the matron of the hospital. When I approached the chief surgeon to take leave of him, he was pretty incredulous. He had again X-ray photos taken of me, but to his astonishment they did not show the growth where it had been located previously. Assuring the doctors that I would place myself at their disposal for treatment in case of the recurrence of the trouble, I returned to the ashram. Bhagavan’s gracious smile on the day I returned to the ashram is still a priceless treasure in my memory. Nearly two decades have passed since then, and I have not had any recurrence of this particular trouble so far. Miraculous cures like mine by Bhagavan, may I say in all humility, were not uncommon.

Kalyana Kalpataru

“Perfection is the keynote of Yoga,” says the Gita. In everything Bhagavan did, small or great, Bhagavan was ever perfect. Whether in effecting the cures as He did with me or in the culinary art at which He was a specialist, or in proof reading one could never find fault with anything Bhagavan did. So perfect was His work in all fields. Instances will recur to the memory of people who have known Bhagavan even slightly. I here recall two out of many within my knowledge. There was however, no attempt at perfection, perfection was quite natural to Him, He would hardly permit the waste of even trifles. Every little bit of anything would be put to some use or other. His scrupulous care in handling any material he came across is worthy of emulation by us all.

I saw Bhagavan arranging the back numbers of the delightful journal devoted to spiritual matters — Kalyana Kalpataru — and instructing Madhava to get them bound neatly. Madhava had been trained by Bhagavan in doing this work to perfection so as to be the envy of every professional binder. A few days later I saw the neatly bound volume of this journal with Bhagavan expressing appreciation of the excellent work. I told Bhagavan of a set of copies with me of the same journal, which Bhagavan asked me to bring to Him. He returned them to me handsomely bound, a few days later. This volume, needless to Say, is amongst my valued possessions.

Precious Presents from Bhagavan

Hard coconut shells are generally used in households as fuel and the ashes sometimes used for tooth powder. Bhagavan had other uses to put them to, He would take immense pains to clean up the strands of fibre on the shells, scrape and polish the surface inside and out and make ladles: of them for use in the kitchen and for other purposes as well. I saw Bhagavan at such work with two shells and a few days. later found them turned into very beautiful cups. This type of work was almost a hobby and a passionate one with Bhagavan. One of these shells was big and the other somewhat smaller, He took three or four days to polish these cups to His satisfaction. I was praying to have it, Sensing my desire to have it, He passed the smaller one on to me. I was thinking however of the other one too and although I never gave expression to my wish, He called me. “Ho, come here, take this,” and gave the other one too to me — again possessions which I am never tired of showing to all my friends as the handiwork of Bhagavan for whom no work was too small and all work was sacred.

Close attention to detail, absence of hurry, perfection in every task attempted, and maximum utilisation of every bit of an article characterised Bhagavan. Nothing escaped Bhagavan’s notice. Even though He has shed His mortal coil, He seems to be always on the alert to comfort and console His numerous devotees to wipe away the tears from their eyes.

My Loneliness after the Mahanirvana of Bhagavan

For over a week after Mahanirvana, I was quite desolate at missing the physical presence of Bhagavan and I did not know quite what to do. Between tears, thoughts of ending this life often came to my mind. My husband too was no more then and Bombay held no fascination for me.

Bhagavan's Personal Assurance

It happened one afternoon as I lay asleep that I had a dream. I was standing in the verandah of my house and I saw Bhagavan come down the Arunachala hill with His walking stick and Kamandalu, enter the verandah of my house by the side door. He came up to me and asked me, “Why are you weeping?” Tears welled up in my eyes, as I said I missed Bhagavan too deeply for words, Bhagavan bade me wipe my tears assuring me He was always with me here. Then He went out by the door opposite, crossing over the bodies of three or four people who were soundly asleep on the floor, whose identity to this day escapes me. This dream is yet vivid in my memory and were I an artist I would have drawn a picture of the scene. Bhagavan almost seemed to tell me that my place was at His ashram and my services in the interests of the ashram should continue. How can I tell my people that it is Bhagavan’s will that makes me continue in residence here, despite the troubles that face me constantly? Some Muslim servants of mine who had protested against my visits to either the shrine or the ashram of Bhagavan or even of prostrating to the photo of Bhagavan, have been granted the vision of Bhagavan so that they not only do not protest any longer but have themselves become devotees of Bhagavan.

Memories of Mr.F.S.Taleyarkhan

Phiroze Taleyarkhan was the youngest of three brothers and a sister, of a well-known aristocratic Parsi family. The eldest, Mr.F.S.Taleyarkhan was a barrister, and I loved him for the reason that he was not in love with money. As a barrister, he was more interested in bringing about a happy compromise between the contending parties than in dragging on litigation through the various courts, to the loss of the parties. Thus he earned for himself great respect and a very good name in the profession. In a rather sensational murder case at the time of the visit of the Prince of Wales, he appeared for the accused against Mr. Mohamed Ali Jinnah and the trial ended in the acquittal of the accused who was a very prominent member of his community. My brother-in-law earned the congratulations of Mr. Jinnah for the conduct of the case. Later he became a judge of the High Court of Bombay. He was a good friend of Gandhiji, whose regret was that my brother-in-law did not choose to throw in his lot with him (Gandhiji).

My sister-in-law did not marry but was deeply interested in social welfare work amongst our community, and was highly respected not only for her philanthropy but for her high culture as well.

My Husband’s Activities

Phiroze, my husband, was the youngest of the family and was a very handsome, tall and highly cultured person. He was the proprietor of the weekly paper issued both in English and Gujarati called 'The Parsi', which he had to sell when we left for Bhopal. That paper was quite a popular one in the community and was noted for its advocacy of radical reforms such as cremation in preference to the i'Tower of Silence' as a means of the disposal of the dead. ‘There was considerable opposition to this move so much so that his office was once the target of attack. But today one finds the method commended by my husband is in greater use amongst the community and the opposition to it has fallen off considerably. It is true that any early reformer must face a certain amount of opposition for the cause he espouses. After Bhopal he set up as an investment adviser and was also engaged in the business of movie production. He was quite a success in both professions.

Differences of Opinion with My Husband

With all his great qualities his pet aversion was for sadhus in general and for the gerua (i.e., saffron-coloured) cloth in particular. We could never see eye to eye with each other on this matter. It was a special point with him to mark out the passages in the dailies reciting the crimes a sadhu was alleged to have committed. He greatly appreciated; the social work I engaged in, in Bombay and elsewhere, but could never bring himself to agree to my visits either to Buddha Gaya or my association with any sadhu or to my frequent trips and long periods of residence in Ramanashram. Retrospectively, I am inclined to think my husband was not far from right in this respect too, I think that if he had had a darsan of Bhagavan, he might have changed his view. I repeatedly invited him, and especially for the opening of the Sri Patalalinga Shrine. But he could not come as he was ill with sprue — he used to fall ill frequently.

My Husband’s Death

For a time after this function I was getting every day sheafs of telegrams felicitating me on the function. On 22nd May 1949, a week after this function, as I was returning from the ashram towards the evening, feeling rather depressed as if a lump had stuck in my throat, I declined dinner and went to bed. A strange feeling was in me that my husband Phiroze was peering at me through the mosquito curtain from all sides, from my head, from my feet and from all around. This impression persisted in me till about 3 a.m, I had no taste for tea that morning cither. The telegraph messenger came that morning with just one telegram instead of the usual bundle and I had the premonition that it bode me no good. It didn’t either, The telegram was from my son Sohrab: "My beloved father departed this morning.” This came to me as a shock as I had no inkling until then either from my son or any other member of my family that my husband was so seriously ill. Long after my husband’s passing, I learnt with regret from my elder brother that the telegram prepared by Sohrab to inform me of his critical condition was withheld by my sister, Roda, presently in occupation of my Marine Drive residence, after taking it from him promising to send it herself. It was too late and purposeless to go to Bombay either. I was quite prostrated and went to bed. Miss Merston — that great, good and staunch friend of mine, now no more — missed me at my usual place in the ashram that morning and came to find out why. She had sensed that something must be seriously wrong with me for me to be absent at the ashram. She found me in bed unable to reply to her question. Then casting about the place, she found the telegram on the table. She felt upset by the way I had been treated by my family, and she informed Bhagavan. He asked her to bring me over to the ashram. For two days I felt too deeply prostrated to be able to bring myself to go to the ashram and the third day, Miss Merston insisted on my going, after lunch, to the ashram, when Bhagavan would be alone, A few minutes after we reached the hall, Bhagavan entered. Words fail me to describe the compassionate look of Bhagavan when He looked at me. In His presence I could hardly check my copious tears. My husband had been sorry for my leaving a luxurious home, loving friends and servants. Above all he could hardly bring himself to appreciate my devotion to Bhagavan, Indeed I have often wondered whether I was right in acting as I did, in leaving a loving hearth and home but ever found consolation in the words of Bhagavan — “everyone to himself or herself.” Even when I was away from all, love and consideration did not diminish till this day.

Although moving in ‘high society’, my husband was a strict teetotaller and avoided both drinks and cigarettes, as did also my brother-in-law. One incident in this connection seems worth narrating.

About Dr.Wanless and Dr.Vail

Dr.Wanless and Dr.Vail of the American Mission Hospital at Miraj were our great friends. These good men did a lot of service for the poor of our country. They treated my mother when she was seriously ill and I was then just about 11 years old and a great favourite with Lady Wanless, After my marriage, I would act as a sort of a secretary to these doctors on their professional visits to Bombay when they would hold consultations at the Taj Hotel, They operated on me for cancer in 1926, in the left arm.

While in Bombay they would come and stay with me and on one occasion, Dr.Vail who knew that neither of us cared for drinks, asked us why we served drinks to our guests. He would not agree that we should serve drinks out of consideration for the habits of our guests and told us that he served at his place only wine and no other drinks and that it would be proper if we did not serve drinks at dinner at our residence.

Sohrab’s Birth

Sohrab, my only son, was born in Bhopal in the year 1917. As the only son of well to do parents he was the pet of his parents and has all that life could bestow on him. Even as an infant he fell ill and we had to leave Bhopal for Poona and later for Bombay. As a boy he loved me deeply until he became a graduate and when he set up for himself in an independent career, somehow his feelings for me changed, although outwardly he seemed just the wonderful fellow he always was. I was of course passionately fond of him, he being my only child. This turn in his nature worried me considerably. It is quite amazing how we run just after those things that kick us and turn our backs on the Lord ever ready to receive us with open arms the moment we turn to Him. I can now look back and calmly feel that all these experiences were for my good only as they deepened my spiritual quest, despite the obstacles and rebuffs on this too. The greater the sufferings the greater the experience. My passionate yearning to be freed from the weight of samsara was the first sign of True Spiritual Thirst. I was always thinking of what would happen to me if my mind and action went off the track. Therefore it is that I am always on my guard and carry the load of my life through this world unattached and not caring for the play of MAYA around me. My mind and thoughts. are always centred on the ‘ONE’, while physically I am performing all kinds of actions. The key to my life lay in Bhakti. Both work and knowledge held an entirely subordinate place to this in my life and thought. Even as a child I was in search of God and met sages, when with their grace suddenly I became indifferent to what I ate, slept in the open without any fear, and continued a life of severe austeritics, snakes (cobras) became my friends — as readers will know that even Bhagavan youched for this. First Lord Buddha and later Sri Ramana helped me considerably to acquire the dispassion so necessary for progress on the spiritual line. When I was at Ramanashram I had asked Sohrab to keep in touch with me with regular weekly letters informing me in detail of the events at Bombay. But at times I would miss these letters for weeks on end. Once for nearly six weeks I had none from him. He was then holidaying at Jaipur, as arranged by me for him with my friend Sheth Govindram Seksaria. The Postmaster who was aware of my anxiety for these letters would indicate to me while sitting in the Old Hall before Bhagavan that there was none through the window.

My anxiety to hear from my son seemed to be sometimes reaching dimensions when it would no longer be bearable. Tears would flow from my eyes. Often I would pray silently to Bhagavan to remove this attachment that I felt for this son of mine. For had I not really friends around me, from all over the world, as good as sons and daughters of my own? The people sitting in front of Bhagavan in the hall were as good too. My prayer to be freed of this attachment and to cherish an intense love for all humanity was quite profound. With such prayer I just closed my eyes in the presence of Bhagavan until the bell rang for lunch. Then I would walk out of the hall, like a queen who had all her wishes fulfilled even before they had been expressed. This intense attachment I felt for Sohrab soon vanished and did not trouble much thereafter. I never inquired of the Postmaster for any letter for me from Sohrab from then on. The thought that Sohrab was mine vanished and I felt that the real life is within oneself and that we live but in our thoughts and emotions. The figures to which we feel attachment, love or hatred come and go and are fleeting and evanescent. Our life is really independent of them. Duty, as we understand the word, is only slavery in the garb of virtue, a morbid attachment to the flesh, an absurd greed for gain or gold or some other worldly attachment. They have a duty to fulfil who consider that the world is real. This makes them stick to this relative life, subjecting themselves to the miseries of the world. When the moods (Vrittis) of the mind subside, when the mind is freed of its desires, the life as we know it loses its hold over us and the world takes on its true colour and is seen to be what it is — ephemeral. Then comes true happiness, the ambrosia that drenches the parched throat like rain. We have then no ‘duty’ to perform or anything to do in the world. This is only a state of consciousness and is not tangible when this change comes over our consciousness. The world too changes for us and we experience the soul for what it is, the reality that transcends all mundane existence.

Such was the relief that Bhagavan granted to me. He released me from the passionate attachment to the only son of this body which had become a source of pain to me, as it is to others in similar situations. Sohrab had a very good position with Messrs.Voltas. He informed me by letter that, giving up that position he was going to Johore, his wife’s place and since then, for over five years, has not sent me a line, even when informed by my sister of the heart ailment I suffered in 1966, His indifference, even as the troubles from the ashram, has been of little moment to me, thanks to the dispassion generated in me — which no wealth in the world can grant but only the grace of my Lord Ramana and of Sri Ma too,

I was about this time oppressed with the thought of the lack of money for the ordinary comforts of life. My family with a view to forcing me to return to their walk of life, had withheld from me all my personal property too. I walked one day into the ashram thinking I must tell Bhagavan. of my dilemma which would oblige me to leave the ashram. I would not, however, tell Bhagavan in public, but Bhagavan looked at me this day with such benign glances, as if to say He knew my situation. A gentleman in the front row asked of Bhagavan what he should do if he wanted seriously to lead a sadhu’s life but had no money. Bhagavan’s reply was, “If your intentions are serious, then for the sake of a little morsel of food do not give up your good intentions. Go for biksha. That will be a rich and rewarding experience. First, the ego will subside. You can bring a lot more food than one can consume and can share it with others. That has been my experience too. One fine day ‘R’ whom I called father — offered to go for biksha and bring food. We shared the food and were all happy. You can do so too.” Bhagavan asked that His reply may be translated for my benefit. I knew immediately that Bhagavan had in His inimitable way offered the solution for the dilemma posed in my mind. I made up my mind that it would be quite a wonderful sadhana that Bhagavan had pointed out for me in reply to the question posed by another.

Sohrab comes to the Ashram

In July that year a little after the incident narrated above, I received a telegram from Sohrab that he was arriving at Tiruvannamalai the very next day. I showed it to Bhagavan and borrowing some money of a friend, went to the railway station to receive him. The next morning as I was preparing to leave for the ashram at 8 a.m., my son asked if he could also accompany me. I told him that he would have to sit on the floor like any of ws as there were no chairs to sit on. He got dressed to accompany me and in the time he took, in my ardent desire that my son too should be a devotee of Bhagavan, I typed out a letter as under for Bhagavan’s perusal and for returning it to me:

My Bhagavan darling,

It is foolishness on my part to write to one who knows everything, but my Bhagavan is gracious enough to overlook our short-comings. Forgive me this letter. For myself I have nothing to ask, I have been granted the greatest boon of my life of being near the feet of my Lord and Master. But I have a prayer for Sohrab who happens to be my child. My heart will not feel happy if he remains so unfortunate as not to love Bhagavan. Bhagavan’s grace will enhance his inner life. I am not concerned about his worldly prospects, as I have already laid them at Bhagavan’s feet when I first came here. Since then I have been watching how graciously Bhagavan has been looking after him in every way. But that alone will not make me happy.

O, my Bhagavan, as a beggar I am begging of you to grant me the boon of transforming him into a great devotee of yours. You performed that miracle with those to whom I spoke of Bhagavan and gave them your picture. Up to now I have not spoken yet to Sohrab because his father’s family and his father do not believe or let him believe in thee. I do not mind what they think or say of me. They have made him believe that I am sad in being here. But I do feel and care about what he continues to believe and think about me. You have answered my prayer in calling him here. I want Bhagavan to hear this prayer and change him, It is not too much for Bhagavan to perform this miracle; you have performed many greater miracles and changed the lives and destinies of many people. My true relations and friends are those who love and worship Bhagavan and none else, neither my son nor a total stranger. So, my beloved Lord, grant me this boon.

With all love and devotion,
Feroza

At the ashram, as I prostrated before Bhagavan, I handed this letter to Him which He returned to me after perusal. Sohrab was seated opposite to Bhagavan, and Bhagavan would look at Sohrab often the while we were in the hall.

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‘Mother... you are right’

Sohrab’s birthday was on the 25th of July and on that day I gave a party to my friends at my residence; Major Chadwick, Mr.Maclver, and Sri Devaraja Mudaliar, were among those present. It was an enjoyable party. The next afternoon, on the 26th, as we were resting at home after lunch, Sohrab put me the question: “Mother, how do you manage?” “Manage what?” I asked in reply. “For upkeep”, said Sohrab, “Thanks to your father and you, I have nothing and so I intend to go about with the begging bowl”. He was astounded, and asked if I was off my head. He could not understand how any member of his family — more so his mother — could ever be a beggar. The Taleyarkhans are a great people and he was quite upset. He asked if I would accompany him to Madras to see him off. With Bhagavan’s permission, I went to Madras with him. I was hoping that he would tell me of his reactions to the ashram and his impressions of Bhagavan. The train was about to leave and he had not spoken a word so far, but taking hold of me, he kissed me, and said, “Mother, I am very happy. You are right”! and jumped into the train as it whistled off. So tense was I to find his reaction that these words shook me like a storm and left me in a flood of tears which my sari could not hide from the people about or from the attendant of the waiting room at the station as I waited to catch the train for Tiruvannamalai, where my gracious Lord was so overwhelmingly kind to me that I knew He had discerned my heart’s sorrow.

Four days later a telegram from my sister in Bombay asked me for instructions for the disposal of my jewels and other valuables handed over to her by my son and I asked for them to be sent to me through a friend to Madras. With Bhagavan’s permission, I went again to Madras, took charge of the valuables, sold a part of my jewellery for a few thousands and came back with the rest, to the ashram. Thus did it please Bhagavan to put an end to my alarms on the material plane as well.

Sohrab had a love affair or two. I was keen he should wed a particular girl and he was also keen, but somehow it turned out that she had to leave for England, and Europe. This marriage plan fizzled out. Subsequently he married Fatima, Princess of Johore. Sohrab paid two further visits to the ashram before Mahasamadhi and one visit much later, while Fatima with two of her children came once after the Mahasamadhi.

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Visit to St. Alphonso

As I had not been blessed with a daughter of my own, I felt comforted that it was given to me to be a foster-mother to my youngest sister, Rita, whom I looked after even from her very infancy. Amongst my sisters, I may say I am very fond of Rita for this reason, although I love equally all my brothers and sisters too. Rita is devoted to St.Theresa of Liseux and became a convert to the Roman Catholic religion. Her husband Mr.D’Mello, now no more, was a great cricketeer. In February 1950 I was asked to meet them at the airport at Madras where I went with the permission of Bhagavan and met not only Rita and her husband, but also my sister Mehra. We went to the Hotel Connemara on Mount Road when Mr.D’Mello told me I could take my sisters with me to my friends the ‘Tarapores, as he would be away in Ceylon with a cricket team for over a week. I had permission to be away from the ashram for just that day and so he proposed that I take my sisters with me to ‘Tiruvannamalai in the car provided for us by his friend the Rajah of Chettinad and we reached home about 7:30 p.m. Afier dinner my sister Rita asked to be taken for the darshan of “my Bhagavan” and when I told her it was against the conventions observed in the ashram for ladies to enter the ashram, she teased me for lack of courage and set out for the ashram, accompanied by us. As we approached the steps leading to the New Hall, Bhagavan, then in the Nirvana room came out, to go to the bathroom next door and the attendant then on duty Anjaneyalu met us on the steps, made kind enquiries of us and although the hour was late, took us to the Nirvana room for the darshan of Bhagavan, saying that all the ashram was fast asleep and an exception could be made in our favour. My sister Rita made a deep, low bow to Bhagavan while Mehra made the usual prostration and Bhagavan made very kind enquiries of us all. We came back home and as arranged earlier, left for Kerala a day or two later to pay our respects to Sister Alphonso, who was said to be performing some great miracles there. I had arranged with Sri Dorairaj, the District Collector at Vellore, for our tickets to Kerala and on reaching Vellore by car, we found our car blocked by the large crowd assembled for the darshan of the statue of Our Lady Fatima then taken along in procession, So we too stayed on the roadside for the darshan and when the statue came up in a car, I found myself very close to it and the Father in charge there asked me to come up to the car for the darshan of the Lady Fatima. I sought the Father’s permission for my sister Mehra, an asthmatic, touching the statue from the ground itself we then resumed our journey and reached the residence of the District Collector rather late. When he learnt the cause of the delay he regretted his having missed the opportunity of darshan of Lady Fatima. We then left for Kerala where arrangements had been made for us by Mr.Tarapore and after darshan of Sister Alphonso returned to Tiruvannamalai.

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Sister Rita and Her Husband visit the Ramanashram

My brother-in-law, Mr. D’Mello had returned earlier than he had anticipated from Ceylon and came to Tiruvannamalai. Both husband and wife were anxious to have darshan of Bhagavan. Entering the Nirvana room the couple made a low bow to Bhagavan and Rita took off her finger the diamond- studded engagement ring given to her by her husband and also the jewel-studded bracelet on her wrist containing the medallia of Jesus Christ and several other saints and laid them both on Bhagavan’s lap. Bhagavan examined them all carefully, was greatly interested by the medallia and praised all the saints there, and wore on His finger the ring for a little time and returned them both to Rita. Husband and wife then prostrated to Bhagavan seeking His blessings. Emotionally overcome in Bhagayan’s presence, my brother-in-law knelt down at Bhagavan’s feet and requested “Bhagavan, won't you cure yourself? The world needs you. I am sure you can easily cure yourself to bless the world.” My fears for the behaviour of this ardent Catholic couple in Bhagavan’s presence were quite groundless. Such is the overpowering grace of Bhagavan.

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My Mother gets a direct experience

Perhaps it was in my stars that almost from my birth I should be denied a mother’s love. The course of life I adopted — my frequent visits to Buddha Gaya, resort to saints of the Hindu faith and lastly my residence in Sri Ramanashram, all combined to stress the difference between us, my mother being a staunch Zoroastrian who could see no good in the path Ihad adopted. No wonder then that she took a leading part in maligning me amongst the people I had moved with in Bombay. However, all that changed by the grace of Bhagavan. In 1957 my sister, with whom my mother was in Bombay, wrote to me to do my part by my mother and insisted on my doing so although I pointed out the differences that held us apart. I felt I could do little for my mother. I did not feel happy with my mother for the first few years mother was with me and I had quite often to pray to Bhagavan to ease the situation for me. Bhagavan helped me in the most miraculous manner. Two or three years after mother’s arrival in Tiruvannamalai, in the early hours of the morning before dawn, Bhagavan appeared in the flesh and told her not to go on finding fault with Feroza, her daughter as He (Bhagavan) was with both mother and me. Mother was quite changed after this experience of hers and would often pray to Bhagavan with uplifted hands. She passed away in February 1967 and before that event, was quite reconciled to me to bless me several times over. Since her demise, I have often had the feeling that mother is with me in her astral body, looking after me and protecting me.

I must not fail to express the deep debt of love and gratitude I owe to two very dear souls — Sri Saidas and Herr Hugo Maier who are both the residents of the Ashram. Strange it may seem but the first day Herr Hugo Maier who is a wonderful healer and homeopathy doctor — arrived in India, he immediately started treating my mother and me — especially when I had the severe heart attack. It was really Bhagavan’s grace that made available to me the invaluable service of these two dears at my hours of need. Of course from the first day of his arrival, I loved him as my son because of his love, and such consideration to both of us for several years. When my mother passed away, her last word of gratitude to him was “My Lord” not thinking of any one of us. When we took her body to Madras for burial he accompanied us to Madras for her last rites. My gratitude and love can never pay him back.

To my Bhagavan I render my humble, and grateful thanks for the very kindly succour, He has rendered to me through some form or other, through some person or other, at all times of my need as if He knew what, when, where and how I would be in need of help. Glory be to my Bhagavan!