April 20, 1966
Early this morning, that is, around four, I was called “somewhere,” and for a long time they had been trying to establish very important communications to connect certain things, but they had never succeeded, it was always a confusion. So, last night, they called me. I arrived there and there were roads – it was so lovely! – roads (Mother draws miniature strips) with small borders of grass and plants all along, it was so lovely, so neat, there was nothing, no disorder anywhere. Three roads converged and went farther on. “Ah!” I said, “Here's some neat work.” And they answered me, “Yes, but it was made easier by the government's consent.”
I found the reflection charming.
All that is symbolic, naturally. And I woke up with the feeling, “At last! Something is going to move somewhat straight.”
It was impeccable: a work done impeccably and with intelligence and understanding. I haven't seen such a thing in ages!
“Oh, it was made easier by the government's consent”! (Mother laughs)
That's a bit of a novelty!
Isn't it? But I don't think it has to do with the government of India, I don't think so. I think it was symbolic.
It has to do with the government of the world?
That's how I took it.
(The conversation is cut short at that point by a disciple who comes in to announce his friend Anousuya's death.)
At what time?
Just now, we just had a call from the hospital.
I am asking this because V. told me she would be going there, she said Anousuya wasn't feeling well. So I looked, and... (V. wanted me to send a line to Anousuya), I took a paper and wrote... I don't remember the exact words, but it was: “The unshakable faith that God's Will alone is realized.” I don't exactly remember, I wrote what was dictated. And at the time of writing it, I knew it was over.
I didn't say anything, but I knew.
Because... It was very simple, I had put my whole consciousness in her and I knew that if she was to be cured, she would know it: she would suddenly have the certitude that she was going to be cured. And when V. told me what she had said, “They think I am better, but I don't feel well,” I looked and I saw that she couldn't be wrong. Because I had put my consciousness in her, so she couldn't be wrong. Her saying, “I am not well,” meant it was the end.
But one must be sure of one thing (because, needless to say, I loved her very much, I was very happy to have her near me, she was very useful and I consider that from the material standpoint her departure is a great loss), but when I learned it was serious, immediately (as always, every moment of my life), my will was for the best possible thing from the divine point of view to be realized. And the divine point of view is also always the personal point of view: the divine point of view is the best that can happen to the person in question. I saw in an absolute way that it was the best for her.
Humanly we may try to find the reasons for this or that, but that's not the point, it's that it was – for her soul, for her true being – the best possible for her.
Take her in you.
Oh, you needn't worry about that.
The last words she told me yesterday evening were, “Ask Mother to make me sleep.”
She wanted rest.
You know, I would like all those who are with me to feel, just as I know it, that it's a reversal of appearances – she is alive, she is conscious, she has all her faculties, all her possibilities, it's all there. She hasn't lost anything! It's only human ignorance that believes there is a loss. She hasn't lost ANYTHING.
Some go in a glory – not many, but some do. And those who go like that don't even have a difficult passage. I was writing that line for her, and I felt (it was half an hour, three quarters of an hour ago) a liberation.
No, I do feel other people's grief, I understand her mother, it's going to be dreadful, it's not that I don't feel, but I would so much like those who have trust to know how that can be a glory.
If you can be quite peaceful, with a very peaceful faith, she will be with you too, she won't leave you.
She is there.
She must find peace near you, and a clear-sighted consciousness: she will have some difficulty with her family's grief, they are going to be very troubled indeed, and she must at least have the possibility of taking refuge in an atmosphere of total peace and trust.
And she is the one who is saying this to you.
The waves from outside are difficult: they come with great agitation and turmoil. One must remember. There must be like a bath of rest near you.