An Extraordinary Girl by Nirodbaran

An Extraordinary Girl

Nirodbaran narrated to Sri Aurobindo an incident that had taken place in Calcutta. The Mother was present during the narration. The incident concerned a girl of about ten or twelve. She belonged to a very well-known family and had visited the Ashram with her parents more than once. Now there was a tea-party in their sumptuous house. Many high-ranking people had been invited. The topic of the Ashram came up. Comments and criticisms started flying freely. Even the Mother and Sri Aurobindo were not spared. The child listened quietly. But when somebody seemed to overstep the limit of decency, she could stand it no longer. In a firm tone she said, “Look here, if you speak one more word about my Gurus, I’ll give you such a slap that you’ll tumble down.” Everybody was stunned. The child’s mamma left the room in shame and anger at the insult to her guests. Her uncle started looking at the ceiling in embarrassment, and to change the subject he started calling to the servants, “Hari, Ram, what a lot of dust is here!” Nirodbaran’s story was enjoyed by all immensely. The Mother and Sri Aurobindo looked happy.

Esha, the late Dilip Kumar Roy’s niece, was a little girl visiting the Ashram when I came to know her through my niece Jyotirmoyee with whom she had become very friendly. She wanted to settle in the Ashram, but her mother did not want it as she was still a minor. When after many years she came to the Ashram again and stayed with Sahana Devi, I became more closely acquainted with her. By that time she had already married and obtained her divorce and had decided to settle here. I came to her help and made all possible arrangements for the purpose. Since then I have come to know her well and listened to her narration of the incidents of her life. As I found them interesting I began to note them down and was thinking of publishing them in Mother India when somehow she got wind of it and strongly objected to it. As I felt I had Sri Aurobindo’s sanction for it, I did not listen to her. In spite of my disregarding her objection, luckily she did not stop recounting her saga. Of course she narrated it in Bengali and later I put it down in English as faithfully as I could. When the story began to appear in Mother India, she insisted more than once that I should stop it. My answer was that I believed it could be helpful to many readers and that Sri Aurobindo seemed to support me.

We find that many bhaktas are indeed appreciating the story, particularly because they realise through it that Sri Aurobindo is still very much with us and our faith has been strengthened, helping us through the difficult moments of our life. – NIRODBARAN

Book Details

Author: Nirodbaran
Print Length: 125p.
Publisher: Sri Aurobindo Ashram
Submitted by: Avinash Tiwari
Book format: Pdf, ePub, Kindle
Language: English

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Contents

• My Birth
• Grandfather’s Death
• Childhood
• Childhood and Father’s Teaching
• Black Magic with Poles
• Childhood Contact with the Ashram
• Letters from Sri Aurobindo and the Mother
• Fatal Accident
• Father – Last Memories
• “…Because I Love Sri Aurobindo”
• Long Exile from the Light
• Tagore’s Dilemma
• Attempt on My Life
• A Famous Astrologer Predicts My Marriage
• The Astrologer
• Experiences on the Way
• Blessed by the Lord
• Birthdays in the Ashram
• A Fatal Utterance
• My Marriage
• More About Dance and My Uncle
• Experiences on the Way
• First Visit to the Ashram with My Son
• Experiences on the Way
• Of Mangoes and the Lord
• My Husband’s Disloyalty
• Experiences on the Way
• A Declaration
• 6. A Vision of Hell
• Nobility of My Husband
• Last Days of My Uncle Dilip Kumar Roy
• Experiences on the Way
• An unbelievable experience
• About My Mother
• The Burden of Property
• Woman of Property
• Candour and Courage – 1
• Candour and Courage – 2
• Experiences on the Way
• About my Experiences
• Darshan of Sri Ramakrishna
• Experiences on the Way
• Sri Krishna’s Prasad
• Aversion Towards God – 1
• Experiences on the Way
• Aversion Towards God – 2
• Experiences on the Way
• Calendar Distribution, 1992
• A Tragic Story
• My Husband’s Solicitude for Me and My Son
• My Son’s Marriage
• My Son – 1
• Experiences on the Way
• Calendar Power
• My Son – 2
• Going out of the Body
• My Driving
• After My Mother’s Death
• My ‘Elder Uncle’
• Experiences on the Way
• Wrong Drug
• Elder Uncle – 2
• Illness of My Elder Uncle
• Elder Uncle and My Son — A Contrast
• Experiences on the Way
• Those who Die Here
• My Friend Tripti
• Experiences on the Way
• My Divorce
• The Case Proceeds
• The Saviour
• Dénouement of the Divorce Case
• The Court Case: Conclusion
• Looking Back from Pondicherry
• Experiences on the Way

Sample

An Extraordinary Girl

My Birth

I was born into an old and noble family. Both my grandfathers were well known in Bengal. My paternal grandfather, Surendranath Banerji, was a celebrated political leader and later a high-ranking government official during the Reform Scheme. My maternal grandfather Dwijendralal Roy was known for his literary genius.

One day, Surendranath paid an unexpected visit to Dwijendralal.

“Surendrababu,” Dwijendralal said, “what an honour for me that you should call upon me. Welcome. I had not expected to see you here even in my dreams.”

“How true,” Surendranath answered. “Our paths would not normally cross, as it appears we have little in common. But sometimes the unexpected comes to pass, as you well know. I have come on urgent business.”

“Business?” Dwijendralal exclaimed. “Of what kind?”

“I would like your daughter’s hand for my son,” replied Surendranath.

Dwijendralal was struck dumb. He looked intently at Surendranath and asked gravely, “Have you seen my daughter or heard anything about her?”

“No.”

“Then how can you make such a proposal? I’m puzzled how you could show interest in such an alliance.”

“I am interested because of the father, not the daughter,” Surendranath answered. “I would like to establish an enduring blood-relationship between our two distinguished families.” Dwijendralal paused for a moment. “With my apologies, I must refuse your offer,” he said.

Now it was Surendranath’s turn to be amazed. The proposed marriage was in every way most desirable, even enviable. Heredity, fame, wealth, culture – nothing better could have been hoped for by either party. Coming to himself, he asked, “May I know why? Is there anything that you find amiss in my son?”

“Nothing. Your son may be good, but to tell the truth, a great man’s son does not usually become great himself. Such a marriage may not be happy and I would not like my only daughter to suffer such a fate and consider me responsible for it. Besides, I am not a rich man myself as you are. Such unequal unions end in grief.”

“Is that your final decision?” Surendranath asked. “If so, I cannot force the marriage. Let it be as you wish.” He started to go, but on second thoughts turned round and said in a determined tone, “Listen, Dwijendralal, this person Surendranath, who has come to your door, has never met with failure in his life. Here too he will not fail. The marriage shall take place.”

“Perhaps, but I will not be a party to it,” Dwijendralal replied calmly.

Only one other person was present during this exchange, my maternal uncle, Dilip Kumar Roy.

As things turned out, my grandfather Dwijendralal died the following year. Now Surendranath revived the proposal, this time to my uncle who had become my guardian. Embarrassed by this fresh overture, my uncle gave it much thought, and finally decided to accept. My mother, overcome with surprise, asked her brother, “Dada, how is it that you have given your consent, when you were aware of our father’s objections to the match?”

“I feel we have no choice, Maya,” Uncle replied. “Besides, so long as you remain single, I cannot pursue any career of my own. If you are without a protector, I cannot, for example, go to England if I want to.”

I can imagine the happiness of my grandfather, Surendranath, when his prophecy thus came true. It made him forget his former humiliation. The marriage took place with great pomp. However, it did not turn out to be as happy as everyone had hoped, not due to any incompatibility between my mother and father but because of disagreements and quarrels which my father’s sisters who had come away from their in-laws’ houses created.

How often such situations arise in joint families all over India!

My grandfather, Surendranath, lived ten years more. He knew of the disharmony between his daughters and my mother, and told them, “I have brought this girl into my house. I can’t drive her away as you well know. If you cannot get on with her and with each other, you had better go back to your fathers-in-law.” So it was that the sisters left the house.

For ten years my parents had no children. At one time they even thought of adopting a child. However, relatives suggested that they go to Tarakeshwar, a holy place where the deity was renowned for his supernatural powers, and might be implored for the boon of a child.

Neither my grandfather nor my father had any faith in these supposed superstitions. But my mother approached grandfather and said, “Father, as everybody is urging me to go to Tarakeshwar, should I go?”

“You may go,” he replied. “At least there can be no harm in going. But I won’t allow you to go without special arrangements. I know the head priest there and shall ask him to look after you.”

When they arrived at Tarakeshwar, the priest did indeed show himself to be overzealous in his concern for them, not only because my grandfather was a well-known political figure but also because he had once saved him from the gallows after he had been sentenced for a grave crime. He had never forgotten this favour. He took my parents to the math (temple) and seated them in front of the Lingam of Lord Shiva. There were two pits, one on either side of the Lingam. Devotees had to put a white flower and a red one into the pits. Mother did as she was told and waited with Father by her side. Suddenly the white flower seemed to spring up and fall into my mother’s lap. The priest was overjoyed.

“Ma, the Thakur has heard your prayer,” he said with a smile. “You will have a daughter.”

Thus the prediction was fulfilled. This must be the way Shiva answers prayers.

But Lord Shiva seems to have graced them with a sickly baby. Nevertheless, from my birth, we used to visit the temple at Tarakeshwar every year. And until his death, my father would distribute blankets to the poor, about two thousand on each occasion, his earnest wish being that I should have a long life.

I continued all the while to suffer from delicate health, falling prey to one ailment after another. My poor father used to run to various astrologers asking, “Will my daughter survive?” And they always assured him that I would. “We don’t see premature death in her horoscope.”

My uncle would taunt my father with the suggestion that he was spoiling me with his excessive fondness. “Send her to a boarding-school, and you’ll see that she will be all right.”

To this my father would retort, “Excessive fondness can never spoil a child; it is excessive neglect that does it. I have no respect for boarding-school education. Let her grow up and have sound health first.” It was my father’s final verdict in the matter.

A famous Calcutta physician used to attend to me during my illnesses. In later years, however, I discontinued his services as we failed to get along with each other.

Meanwhile, once when my father fell ill, he engaged a young man of the neighbourhood to look after him. The boy did not have a good reputation, and when my father asked him to attend on me as well, my mother was shocked, and remonstrated, “How dare you do such a thing when you know what kind of a character he is?”

“Because I know my daughter even better,” he replied. “I would rather cut off my hand than believe my daughter is capable of going astray.” That was the kind of faith he had in me, and in others as well.

Sri Aurobindo observed about him at one time, “He is a fine man, but has no turn towards God.”