The Mother Divine
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Where was The Mother all these years?

This is indeed not the correct question. It might be more apt, perhaps, to ask: Where were the children all these years? The Mother is always there, nourishing her offspring, tending the home and guarding her children from the perils of adharma, it is the children who often neglect home and go astray. But The Mother’s benign and compassionate call inexorably reaches to the steep, rugged and iniquitous way, rings out loud and clear in the violent winds throughout the night and brings the lost lamb back to the dawn of her shelter.

I was thinking of The Mother this morning as I stood next to Mother Ganga. The gently flowing Gangaji is always clearly outlined even in the diffused light of infant dawn. But today she was clad in a gossamer veil of grey mist. When I had a dip in the chilly waters the forest backdrop on the other side of the river was blurred behind the smoky curtain. It was fascinating to watch nature’s game of hide and seek. I finished my bath, on the way home there was little or no visibility beyond two meters. There was just me and only me. Every other creation of man and god was hidden away. It was just a grey world which could only be seen and could not be touched. Our building was lost without a trace. A world with no contours and shapes, devoid of familiar landmarks. Oneness.

Maybe this is how it felt before creation –undivided, indistinguishable. I came up to our home and looked out of the balcony. Nothingness greeted me. It was as if a giant hand just blurred everything. Unending greyness. Teasing tendrils of mist tentatively trickling in.

Slowly the sun came out; the mist didn’t lift even then, in fact for sometime the grey dull mist assumed the polished hue of an iridescent pearl. It glowed from within. Then the sunlight got stronger and started to singe away the edges of the smoky fog. Its impenetrable armour started giving way. The shapes of the houses and trees, cars etc melted back...slowly. Shapes first, and then gradually, the outlines assumed colour, clarity and sharpness. I had never seen the day emerge out of such great mist!

I prayed to Mother Ganga. Let The Mother come alive…from the blur of yester decades.

For many years starting 1958, Dr. Srikumar Banerjee and Prof. Sadananda Chakrabarti, through the publication of The Mother, quenched the thirst of spiritual aspirants and the religious-minded people like a bank of cloud. Great was the rain of their contributions, which helped nourish one full generation of seekers with insights and gateways to the Eternal Verities.

True sons of the Divine Mother, these two saintly scholars did yeomen’s service by championing a cause that was sponsored by Naam Avatara Sri Sri Sitaramdas Omkarnath. As you would read from the blessings of Sri Sri Sitaramdas Omkarnath, which we have published right at the outset, The Mother was dedicated to the Goddess who pervades the world and all its beings as the Great Mother.

It is at Her feet that we are offering this Special Preceptor Issue after many years of silence. May Divine Mother Kundalini, the Divine Cosmic Energy that is hidden in men, bless and come alive in the pages of this journal.

She is Kali, Durga, Adishakti, Rajarajeshwari, Tripurasundari, Maha-Lakshmi, Maha-Sarasvati, Radha and Sita! She has put on all these names and forms. This whole universe rests in Her bosom. Millions of salutations unto Her!

We aim at the highest goal with The Mother. As was intended in its original form, we expect some sublime power from the words of this journal to exert an unfailing influence upon the readers. The great stage of spiritual drama is within every person. It lies dormant in the Chakras.

We hope that the Kundalini works through The Mother; leads the readers on to open the Sushumna Nadi and travels along the Chakras to the Sahasrara to finally merge in Her consort, Lord Shiva. Can we succeed in this task? I trust we will.

Last Purnima, after Sri Vitthal Ramanuja signaled his approval and gave his blessings, I studied the old issues of this journal to ascertain the domain of its possible wellspring of content. I drew up a long list of subjects on which articles may be solicited and sent it across to possible successors. An erudite friend, after studying it responded as follows:

“I have gone through this list. All the issues are important. I think you have identified issues most appropriately. I have, however, severe limitations. I am a novice not having undertaken japa, dhyan, yoga… and most importantly not at all realising the message and the tattvas. Our Shastra prohibits such a person from writing on tattvas by a novice. I am strongly of the belief that I will be committing great mistake in making public and claiming rightness to things that I do not know but only believe in.

The right person to write should be a personage such as Sri Vitthal Maharaj, Sri Madhav Swamiji, et al! But alas! Sri Madhav Swamiji has left the body. I can translate them if necessary.

Kindly forgive me.”
I wrote back:

“Your mail disheartens me partly, for unlike you, I have no grounds, whether moralistic or otherwise, to retract from the task of reviving The Mother. As it is, I was quite daunted by the altitude of genius that the earlier editors and contributors of ‘The Mother’ enjoyed. Now it appears I shall have to commence my lonely struggle without much help in terms of original material from friends who are recognised scholars. You are right when you suggest that the likes of Sri Vitthal Maharaj be the contributors. These will indeed contribute, though their saintly occupations may need that they are spared regular involvement with the journal.

When revered Sadananda Chakravarti used to bring out The Mother, whilst there was content provided by pure saints in the journal’s pages, along with translations from works of Sitaramdas Omkarnath, a large part still came from the general scholars or secular personages. If I employ the Shastric injunctions: it would be impossible for me, to take even a single step, in any direction whatever, because the unfortunate burden of my sins and failings, transgressions and worthlessness, weighs upon my conscience too. As ever, I take recourse, not to the magnitude of my incapacity and degeneracy, but in the limitlessly vast extent of Mother’s and Guru’s tendency to forgive. I figured long, long ago that nothing in the order of perfection may be inspired by me, but then I realised that it wouldn’t be necessary, because it is so much more important to do the job than doing it well. I therefore decided to proudly display and publish my imperfect work if it came from my heart. I know that it is impossible to perpetuate, in ignorance, the grand project that revered Sadananda Chakravarti had begun. But generations, in their flow, must carry on, and rise and fall, rather than destroy the legacy of The Mother. One child may not be as good as another, but The Mother will still embrace him. That is my attitude. I resort to the gentle care of the Mother like a child, without fear.

I do feel lonely, my friend, and I seek your assistance in implementing this project which has the blessings of Sri Gurudeva.”
I hope my earnest appeal reached my erudite friend and I hope it would reach the sympathetic readers too. It is always a self-debilitating job to perpetuate a tradition that has been hallowed in the pages of history. The Mother of the past, our elderly and respectable readers will testify, was a journal par excellence. It was a creation of giants among men. Something that could be feared for its sacrosanct nature by the generation of today! How dare anyone carry it forward in these days of decadence and profligacy? Well, we must bend our heads down in humility if we choose to face up to this challenge. But we must not do it because of fear of failure; we must do it so that we may, in our humility, earn the blessings that a devotee earns when he bows down at the feet of the Almighty. We will form a new nimbus. We will put forth fresh lotuses. We will return home to the glorious Mother. We begin with a tribute to The Mother of the past. This is the first number of the revived journal. It is what we call the Nostalgia Number. It presents afresh articles from back numbers on the glory of Guru. Hope you enjoy it.

Raj Supe (Kinkar Vishwashreyananda)
The Editor