October 2, 1971
(Last year, after the death of General de Gaulle, Satprem’s
friend Y.L. had met André Malraux at Verrières; he immediate
ly asked her, “Is the Mother still alive?” As Y.L. was a little
taken aback, he added, “I went there before you, 33 years
ago…. So I assume you know what they have been looking
for in India….” Again a few days ago, Y.L. met André
Malraux after his cry “Volunteer for Bengal”; he said to her,
”What is essential in the fight I’m going to wage for Bengal is
to know the attitude and action of Pondicherry.” Y.L. therefore
came to put the question directly to Mother. Mother asked,
”When is André Malraux meeting Indira Gandhi?” “In
November, in Paris.” Mother again asked, “When is André
Malraux thinking of coming to India?” “I don’t know.” Then
Mother remained absorbed a long time and said, “He will only
get THE answer when he arrives in India, because the answer is
in him.” After meeting Indira Gandhi in Paris, André Malraux
will renounce his plan of action. Let us note that when Y.L.
met him, he leafed through the Auroville pressbook and said,
”All this is familiar — I’m part of it — I know this.” And closing
the book, “It’s as if the sun had risen. And it goes down….
And we begin again….” Y.L. simply replied: "And what
if the sun has risen for good?")
Well, then?
Do you know that Y.L., whom you saw a few days ago, met
Malraux in Paris and gave him my article on Bangladesh, and
“On the Way to Supermanhood”? And this morning I received
a note from Malraux.
Ah!
A card. It’s nice. He simply says:
“Many thanks for ‘On the Way to Supermanhood,
‘ about which one of our mutual friends had spoken
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to me — thank you also for thinking of sending it to
me."
Good….
He said you were “my son”!
Oh!… Well, that’s not completely wrong.
I said it’s true! (Mother laughs merrily)
It seems he has a lot of authority over there?
Oh, indeed a lot, and not just in France, but all over the world.
If he says something, it’s a world event!
Oh, then that’s good.
So I thought I would send him a little note …
Yes.
… in which I would tell him this:
Dear Mr. Malraux, I was very touched by your note thanking me for “On
the Way to Supermanhood.” Some fifteen years ago, in
this Ashram, I was teaching French classes to the young
Indian disciples, and I tried to tell them who Malraux
was, whose work I admired — today they remember and,
like me, are moved by your intervention on behalf of
Bangladesh. The problem is deeper, of course, as you well know.
What is at stake at the end of the present mental cycle is
the creation of a new man — that is what we are trying to
do here with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. Great
Forces are at work here, in a humble way. And I am hap
py that “Supermanhood” did not leave you insensitive.
Indeed, its cry needs you and your capacity to grasp the
profound Sense of our human crisis.
May the Force of Sri Aurobindo and Mother be with
you.
Fraternally with you in the great Work to be accom
plished.
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That’s good, that’s very good!
If a man like that were directly touched by you, it would be a
fantastic help. Two words from that man, and the whole world
listens.
Oh!
(Mother goes within for a long time)
What do you say, Mother?
I say nothing.
(long silence)
I speak less and less.
Yes, Mother….
Only, all the time the Force is going like this (gesture of unrelenting Pressure). It’s pressing on Matter for the transformation.
I don’t know, I feel the hour of great changes in the world is approaching.
Yes, yes.
I mean visible things.
Yes. And the Force is going like this very consciously (same gesture of pressure), very consciously. In the smallest detail as well as on the whole, very consciously.
When I am like this (gesture of being motionless and interiorized), I am simply conscious of that Force (same gesture of pressure), and then sometimes, a particular point (gesture of a ray being aimed) or a detail goes consciously through … through the personality (I don’t know how to say it), and there it’s … it seems irresistible: curing someone, even getting a thief arrested (!), things like that. It’s strange.
It’s curious.
And more and more (Mother touches her hands) impersonal.
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