{"id":4456,"date":"2013-07-13T01:56:07","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:56:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=4456"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:56:07","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:56:07","slug":"08-17-march-vol-06-questions-and-answers-volume-06","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/02-works-of-the-mother\/01-cwmce\/06-questions-and-answers-volume-06\/08-17-march-vol-06-questions-and-answers-volume-06","title":{"rendered":"-08_17 March.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n
\n
\n


\n17 March 1954<\/font><\/span><\/b>
\n<\/font> <\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

This talk is based upon Mother’s essay
\n\u201cThe Four <\/font> <\/span><\/p>\n

Austerities and the Four Liberations\u201d,
\nPart I. <\/font> <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Here you have said: \u201cThe avowed purpose of such [ascetic] practices is
\nto abolish all sensation so that the body may no longer stand in the way of
\none’s flight towards the Spirit.\u201d <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

In the old spiritual doctrines, the body
\nwas always considered incapable of being transformed and only as something
\ninert and useless obstructing the path \u2013 the spirit had to be made to go out of
\nits body so that, free, it could have all possible experiences. And so they
\nill-treated the body as much as they could to take away from it its vitality
\nand strength, to keep it very quiet like something utterly useless. <\/span><\/p>\n

The physical consciousness was for them
\nsomething to be done away with. <\/span><\/p>\n

That was it. I am speaking as they
\nthemselves spoke. I am putting myself in their place. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Last time, in the text it was said: \u201cThey [those who have faith in a
\nGod, their God] belong to him integrally; all the events of their lives are an
\nexpression of the divine will and they accept them not merely with calm
\nsubmission but with gratitude, for they are convinced that whatever happen to
\nthem is always for their own good.\u201d <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

What is the difference between a calm and a grateful
\nsubmission? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

A calm and a grateful submission?…\u00a0 <\/span>When you receive an order, you may carry it
\nout with resignation because you have
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 63<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

resolved to submit; so you carry out this
\norder without any joy or pleasure, just very drily<\/span>
\nand superficially, and you tell yourself, \u201cI was told to do this and I am doing
\nit.\u201d This means that you do not try to understand and make no effort to adhere
\nwillingly to what is asked. This is resigned submission. You accept your fate
\nand if you do not complain it is because you have determined not to complain,
\nit is because of this determination, otherwise you would complain. <\/span><\/p>\n

The other instance is of understanding why
\nan order was given, of grasping its inner value and wanting to express what has
\nbeen asked with all one’s strength, with the knowledge and joy that it is
\nsomething, perforce, that’s bound to bring the Divine closer and give you full
\nsatisfaction. Then you are happy, you are satisfied and you collaborate. That
\nmakes quite a orderable difference. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

In a calm submission, doesn’t one feel happy? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Usually one is very proud of oneself! One
\nbecomes vain, tells oneself that one is doing something remarkable. One doesn’t
\nquestion, doesn’t try to understand: one obeys, and besides is resigned. One doesn’t
\neven ask oneself if it is good or not: one is too superior! One is puffed up
\nwith pride. There are many people of this kind here. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

So it is not a true submission, is it? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

I think the other one is better. At least
\nhere one has the satisfaction of understanding why he does things; one does
\nthem with joy and feels strengthened through the very fact of doing them, while
\nin the first instance one bends the head lower and lower and feels as though
\none were a poor victim of some despotic authority crushing one with its
\nomnipotence. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

In the temples people offer animals to the Divine. In<\/span><\/i> <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

\nPage – 64<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/span>this case can it be called
\ncruelty? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

This comes much closer to ignorance and
\nunconsciousness than to cruelty. They don’t do it because they are cruel \u2013 there
\nare exceptions \u2013 but still, generally speaking, it is not that they feel a
\nspecial pleasure in killing but they are afraid of a particular god and think
\nthat by such killing they will win his favour. <\/span><\/p>\n

Close by here, near the seashore, there is
\na fishermen’s temple \u2013 Virampatnam<\/span>, I think; when you
\ngo as far as Ariancouppam<\/span> and from there turn to the
\nleft and go towards the sea, at the end of the road there is a temple. It is
\nthe temple of a strange godhead… it is one of the Kalis. Well, extraordinary
\nstories are told about this Kali, but in any case, the custom is to kill a
\nfairly large number of<\/span> <\/span> chicke<\/span><\/span>ns<\/span><\/span> <\/span> every year in her
\nhonour. I happened to go down there \u2013 I believe it was the day after the
\nfestival had been celebrated: one could still see all the feathers scattered on
\nthe sands \u2013 and, above all, there was in that place an atmosphere of creepy
\ndread and total ignorance, and also (I don’t know the practice \u2013 who eats the
\nchickens? whether it is the one who kills them or the priests \u2013 but here truly
\nthere were too many! If the priests ate all that they would be quite sick! So
\nit must probably have been also the people who had killed the chickens), there
\nwas that atmosphere of greed, not only greed but of gluttony, of people who
\nthink about eating. And there was that Kali who was particularly satisfied with
\nall the vital forces of all those poor little chickens; they had been killed
\noff by hundreds and each one had a little vital force which escaped when its
\nthroat was cut, and so that Kali was feeding upon all that: she was very happy.
\nAnd there was evidently \u2013 I don’t know if it could be called cruelty, it was
\nrather greed, \u2013 greed of vital forces, of a very unconscious vital force, for
\nthese poor chickens don’t have anything very conscious. And the whole thing
\ncreated a very low, very heavy, very unconscious and painful atmosphere, yet
\nnot of the intensity of cruelty. So it can’t be said that this practice is due
\nto cruelty, I don’t think so. Per- <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 65<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

haps some of these people, had they to
\nsacrifice a little kid, a little lamb they loved, perhaps they would even find
\nthis a little sad. It is rather a great unconsciousness and a great fear. Oh,
\nfear! In religions there is so much fear! Fear: \u201cIf I don’t do this or that, if
\nI don’t cut the throat of a dozen chickens, disastrous things will happen to me
\nall my life through or at least the whole of this year. My children will be
\nill, I shall lose my job, I won’t be able to earn my living; very, very
\nunpleasant things will happen to me.\u201d…\u00a0\u00a0
\n<\/span>And so, let us sacrifice the dozen chickens. But it is not from the
\ndesire to kill. It can’t be said that it’s through cruelty: it’s through
\nunconsciousness. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

What did that Kali do when you went to see her? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

You know the story, don’t you?… I did
\nnot know the place, but there is a bit of a road between Ariancouppam<\/span>
\nand this temple. And so, half-way, I was seated quietly in my car knowing
\nnothing \u2013 I knew nothing, neither the story of that Kali nor of the chickens
\nnor anything \u2013 I was seated in my car when suddenly I saw a black being coming,
\nwith hair all disheveled<\/span>, who asked me to make a
\npact. And she assumed a tone of great supplication and told me, \u201cAh! If you
\nwish, if you wish to adopt me and come to help me, how many people would come,
\nhow very glorious this place would become.\u201d She was a funny little creature.
\nShe was black, dishevelled, quite thin, she didn’t seem to be flourishing much!
\nLater I was told \u2013 I don’t know the story exactly, I can’t say \u2013 that some
\nmisfortune had befallen her: her head had been cut off, wasn’t that it?
\nSomething like that. (Turning to a
\ndisciple<\/i>)\u00a0 <\/span>Amrita, do you know the
\nstory of the Kali of Virampatnam<\/span>?… No, you don’t?
\nSomeone had related it to me, anyway it was not very interesting, it was an
\nunfortunate Kali. I told her to remain quiet and that I did not understand what
\nshe wanted of me, that I came… that if she had a sincere aspiration, well,
\nthere would be a response to her aspiration. The next moment we reached the
\ntemple; then I began
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 66<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

to understand that this was the person for
\nwhom the temple had been built. Later we went to walk on the seashore under the
\ncasuarinas trees, and there we saw all the feathers and drops of blood and the
\nremain of the fire \u2013 the fire on which, evidently, people had cooked their
\nchickens. And we asked for the story. And I knew then the story of that Kali
\nand how, for that festival, chickens were massacred in great numbers. <\/span><\/p>\n

So, that’s it. I don’t suppose that
\ncreature felt any considerable satisfaction in seeing the chickens killed I
\nknow nothing about it. As I said, all the profit she could get out of it was
\nthe absorption of some vital forces coming out of the chicken. But it was
\nevident that she felt an enormous satisfaction in seeing a large crowd \u2013 the
\nmore people came there and the more chickens were killed, the greater was the
\nsign of success. This proved that she had become a person of considerable
\nimportance! And so in her ingenuousness she came to ask my help, telling me
\nthat if I wanted to help her and give her something of my vital force and vital
\npresence, there would be still more people and more chickens! Then that would
\nbe a very great success. I replied that as things stood it was quite enough,
\nthat she should remain quiet.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

To what plane did she belong, Mother? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

The most material vital. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Why is she called Kali? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

I don’t know. It is one of the Kalis \u2013 I
\nhave a vague impression that her head was cut off or that she was buried up to
\nthe neck or I don’t know what. Something like that. There is a story of a head
\nwhich comes out of the sand, buried up to the neck. But that, anyone in this country
\nwill tell you the story, I don’t remember it. It is a form of Kali \u2013 there are
\ncountless forms of Kali. Each believer has his image, has his particular
\nrelation with a
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 67<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

certain Kali. Sometimes it is their own
\nKali: there are family Kalis \u2013 lots of family Kalis. I knew families who had
\nvery dangerous Kalis. If what they wanted was not done, always some misfortune
\nbefell the family members. There was a very strong formations. I suppose it was
\nthe family members who were still more responsible than their Kali. And I knew
\npeople who, when the misfortune came, a real misfortune in the family \u2013 someone’s
\ndeath \u2013 took the image of Kali and went and threw it into the <\/span>Ganges<\/span>. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

This Kali has no connection with Mahakali, has she? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

No. She has a very close connection with
\nthe human mind. I believe these are almost exclusively constructions of the
\nhuman mind…\u00a0 <\/span>But I have found that
\nthere is really a Ganapati \u2013 something I didn’t believe. I used to think it was
\na purely human formations, that story of the elephant head \u2013 but there is a
\nbeing like that. I saw it, it is quite alive, and it is not a formations. So
\ntoo there is a black Kali with her garland of skulls and her huge hanging
\ntongue. I have seen her. I saw her entering my room with her eyes wide open. So
\nI am sure she exists. And it was not a human formations: it was a being \u2013 a
\nreal being. Now, it is possible that some of the details may have been added by
\nhuman thought. But still the being was a real being, it was not purely a
\nformations. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

What does that black Kali do? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Well, I believe she does fairly bad
\nthings! It is obvious that she takes a great pleasure in destruction. <\/span><\/p>\n

That one \u2013 it was at the time of the First
\nWorld War, the early days of the First War. I was here. I was staying in the
\nhouse on <\/span>Dupleix Street<\/span>, Dupleix House. From the terrace of that
\nhouse could be seen Sri Aurobindo’s room, the one in the Guest House. Sri
\nAurobindo was staying there. He had two
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 68<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

rooms and the small terrace. And from the
\nterrace of Dupleix House the terrace of the Guest House could be seen. I don’t
\nknow if it can still be seen; that depends on the houses in between, but at
\nthat time it could. And I used to sit on the terrace to meditate every morning,
\nfacing Sri Aurobindo’s room. That day I was in my room, but looking at Sri Aurobindo’s
\nroom through a small window. I was in meditation but my eyes were open. I saw
\nthis Kali entering through my door; I asked her, \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d And she
\nwas dancing, a truly savage dance. She told me, \u201c<\/span>Paris<\/span> is taken, <\/span>Paris<\/span> will be destroyed.\u201d We used to have no
\nnews; it was just at the beginning of the war. I was in meditation. I turned
\ntowards her and told her, \u201cNo, <\/span>Paris<\/span> will not be taken, <\/span>Paris<\/span> will be saved\u201d, quietly, just like this,
\nbut with a certain force. She made a face and went away. And the next day, we
\nreceived the \u201cdispatch\u201d. In those days there were no radios yet, we had
\ntelegraph messages, \u201cdispatches\u201d, which were proclaimed, posted on the gate of
\nthe Government House. We got the news that the German had been marching upon <\/span>
\nParis<\/span>, that <\/span>Paris<\/span> was not defended; the way was quite open,
\nthey had to advance only a few kilometres more and they would have entered the
\ncity. But when they saw that the road was clear, that there was nobody to
\noppose them, they felt convinced that it was an ambush; that a trap had been
\nset for them. So they turned round and went back! (Laughter<\/i>)\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>And when the
\nFrench armies saw that, naturally they gave chase and caught them, and there
\nwas a battle. It was the decisive battle: they were stopped. Well, evidently it
\nwas that. It took this form: When I said to Kali, \u201cNo\u201d, they were
\npanic-stricken. They turned back. Otherwise, if they had continued to advance
\nit would have been all over. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

What is Mahakali like? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Well, my children, when you see her, you
\ncan tell me! She is not like that Kali. All I can tell you is that she is not
\nblack, she
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 69<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

doesn’t stick out a big tongue, and she
\ndoesn’t wear a necklace of human heads! <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Here you have said: \u201cThe sadhu’s<\/span> recourse to
\nthe bed of nails or the Christian anchorite’s resort to the whip and the
\nhair-shirt are the result of a more or less veiled sadistic tendency, unavowed<\/span> and unavowable<\/span>; it is an
\nunhealthy seeking or a subconscious need for violent sensations.\u201d <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Ah! You know there are ascetics who sleep
\non nails. Have you never seen them? I have seen some photographs myself. This
\nsort of thing is done; they sleep upon a nail-bed. Even quite recently I saw a
\nphotograph like that. Well, they do that for…\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span>I don’t know if it is to prove their
\nsaintliness. You know, when they do this in public, one always suspects that it
\nis a bit of histrionics. But still there are those who can do it sincerely, in
\nthe see that they don’t do it for display. And so these, if they are asked why
\nthey do it, say that it is to prove to themselves that they are detached from
\nthe body. And there are others who go still farther: they say that the body
\nmust be made to suffer in order to liberate the spirit. Well, if you ask me, I
\nwould say that behind this there is a vital taste for suffering which imposes
\nsuffering on the body because the vital takes a very perverse pleasure in
\nsuffering. I have known children who had hurt themselves somewhere or other and
\nwho pressed as hard as they could on the injury to make it hurt still more! And
\nthey took pleasure in it. I have known grown-ups also. Morally, it is a very
\nwell known fact. I spend my time telling people, \u201cIf you are unhappy, it is
\nbecause you want to be. If you suffer, it is because you like suffering,
\notherwise you would not suffer.\u201d This sort of thing I call unhealthy, for it is
\nagainst harmony and beauty, it is a kind of morbid need for strong sensations. <\/span><\/p>\n

I don’t know if you know that <\/span>China<\/span> is a country where the most frightful
\ntortures have been invented, unthinkable things.
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 70<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

When I was in <\/span>Japan<\/span> I asked a Japanese, who liked the Chinese
\nvery much (which is very rare) and always spoke very highly about <\/span>China<\/span>, why this was so. He told me, \u201cIt is
\nbecause all the peoples of the <\/span>Far East<\/span>, including the Japanese themselves, have
\na very blunted sensitivity. They feel very little; unless the suffering is
\nextremely strong, they feel nothing. And so this has compelled them to use
\ntheir intelligence to invent extremely acute sufferings.\u201d Well, all these
\npeople who are unconscious, the more unconscious they are, the more tamasic
\nthey are; the more blunted their sensibility, the more do they need strong
\nsensations to feel something. And usually this is what makes people cruel, for
\ncruelty gives very strong sensations. That kind of nervous tension obtained
\nthrough suffering imposed upon somebody, that gives a sensation, and they need
\nit in order to feel; otherwise they feel nothing. And that is why entire races
\nare particularly cruel. They are very unconscious \u2013 vitally unconscious. They
\nmay not be unconscious mentally or otherwise, but they are unconscious vitally
\nor physically \u2013 above all, physically. <\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

Can those who have a see of beauty also become cruel? <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

That’s a psychological problem. It depends
\non where their sense of beauty is located. One may have a physical see of
\nbeauty, a vital sense of beauty, a mental sense of beauty. If one has a moral
\nsense of beauty \u2013 a sense of moral beauty and nobility \u2013 one will never be
\ncruel. One will always be generous and magnanimous in all circumstances. But as
\nmen are made of many different pieces… For instance, I was thinking about all
\nthe artists I knew \u2013 I knew all the greatest artists of the last century or the
\nbeginning of this century, and they truly had a sense of beauty, but morally,
\nsome of them were very cruel. When the artist was seen at his work, he lived in
\na magnificent beauty but when you saw the gentleman at home, he had only a very
\nlimited contact with the artist in himself and usually he became some- <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 71<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

one very vulgar, very ordinary. Many of
\nthem did, I am sure of it. But those who were unified, in the sense that they
\ntruly lived their art \u2013 those, no; they were generous and good. <\/span><\/p>\n

I remember a very amusing story that Rodin
\ntold me. You know Rodin \u2013 not the man but what he has done? Rodin put a
\nquestion to me one day; he asked me, \u201cHow can one prevent two women from being
\njealous of each other?\u201d (Laughter<\/i>)\u00a0 <\/span>I said to him, \u201cAh, here’s a problem indeed!
\nBut won’t you please tell me why?\u201d Then he told me, \u201cIt’s like this: most of my
\nwork I do in clay, at least much of it, before sculpting it in stone or casting
\nit in bronze. And so this is what happen: at times I go away for a day or two
\nor more. I leave my clay models covered with wet cloth because if it dries up
\nit cracks and all the work is lost, I have to do it over again.\u201d All sculptors
\nknow this. And this is what happened to that poor man: he had a wife, and he
\nhad his favourite model who was quite…\u00a0
\n<\/span>very intimate in the house, she came in when she liked \u2013 she was the
\nmodel he used for his sculptures. Now, the wife wanted to be the wife. And when
\nRodin was absent, she came early every morning to the studio and sprinkled
\nwater on all the cloths, all the heads or bodies, everything. It was all
\ncovered up, wrapped in wet cloth. Water is sprinkled upon it as on plants. So
\nshe came and sprayed them. And then, after a while, two or three hours later,
\nthere came the model who had the key to the studio. She opened the studio and
\nshe sprayed them. She saw very well that it was all wet, but she had the
\nprivilege of looking after the sculpture of her sculptor \u2013 and so she sprayed
\nit. \u201cAnd so,\u201d said Rodin to me, \u201cthe result is that when I return from my
\ntravels, all my sculpture is flowing and nothing of what I had done is any
\nlonger there! <\/span><\/p>\n

He was an old man, already old at that
\ntime. He was magnificent. He had a faun’s head, like a Greek faun. He was
\nshort, quite thick-set, solid; he had shrewd eyes. He was remarkably ironical
\nand a little… He laughed at it, but still he would have preferred to find his
\nsculpture intact!
\n <\/span><\/p>\n

\nPage – 72<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n
\n

<\/span><\/div>\n

And what was your reply? (Laughter) <\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

I don’t remember now. (Laughter) Perhaps I
\nanswered by a joke. No, I remember one thing, I asked him, \u201cBut why don’t you
\nsay: this one will sprinkle the water?\u201d He then pulled at the little hair that
\nwas left on his head and said, \u201cBut that would be a war to the knife.\u201d (Laughter<\/i>)<\/span><\/p>\n

Voil<\/span>\u00e0<\/span><\/span>, good night. <\/span>
\n <\/p>\n

\nPage – 73<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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