Letters of Sri Aurobindo
Volume 1. 1935
Letter ID: 1418
Sri Aurobindo — Nirodbaran Talukdar
September 8, 1935
A strange incident occurred today. Dr. Becharlal and I worked as usual in the dispensary. After the day’s work we shut the doors and went out – Dr. Becharlal to the pier for his habitual walk, and I to X’s place. J also went to the pier at this time. But he somehow did not enjoy his stroll and instead had, what he called, “a very repulsive feeling” when he arrived at the pier, and distinctly felt that he should go back to the dispensary. When he went there, he found a number of people collected near the entrance, knocking at the door; they were waiting for me. J inquired what had happened, and was told that B.P. had been stung by a scorpion and required immediate medical help. He at once hastened to fetch me. I asked him to find Dr. Becharlal, and bring him also to the dispensary. He went towards the pier looking for the doctor. After going a little distance he met Dr. Becharlal, who was returning without finishing his walk; he said that somehow he did not feel like going to the pier that day. I am a little baffled by the whole incident. Are these just accidents?
No, of course not. But they seem so to all who live in the outward vision only. “Coincidence the scientists do them call.” But anyone with some intelligence and power of observation who lives more in an inward consciousness can see the play of invisible forces at every step which act on men and bring about events without their knowing about the instrumentation. The difference created by Yoga or by an inner consciousness – for there are people like Socrates who develop or have some inner awareness without Yoga – is that one becomes conscious of these invisible forces and can also consciously profit by them or use and direct them. That is all.
These things manifest differently, in a different form or transcription, in different people. If it had been Socrates and not Becharlal who was there,– which would have been useless as he was no doctor and highly inconvenient to you as he would certainly have turned the tables on you and avenged me by cross-examining you every day and passing you through a mill of philosophical conundrums and unanswerable questions – but still if he had been there, he would have felt it as an intimation from his daemon, “Turn back, Socrates; it is at the Ashram that you ought to be now”. Another might have felt an intuition that something was up at the Ashram. Yet another would have heard a voice or suggestion saying “If you went back at once it would be useful” – or simply “Go back, back; quick, quick!” without any reason. A fourth would have seen a scorpion wriggling about with its sting ready. A fifth would have seen the agonised face of B.P. and wondered whether he had a toothache or a stomachache. In Becharlal’s case it was simply an unfelt force that changed his mind in a way that seemed casual but was purposeful, and this obscure way is the one in which it acts most often with most people. So that’s thus.
Have you had time and appetite enough to gulp the little whale? If you had I hope it wasn’t nauseating!
The whale taken as a whole tasted very well; its oil was strong and fattening, its flesh firm and full and compact and whalish. Not quite so exquisite as the sonnet minnows, but the quality of a whale can’t be that of a minnow. As a whale, it deserves all respect and approbation.
Krishna Ayyar has a cold and slight fever. Given aspirin. Requires Divine help.
One tablet of aspirin and another of aspiration might do.