I shall remember for a long time

I shall remember for a long time my first trip from Victoria Station to Oxted (Surrey), where Shri Mataji is living. I am sitting in a second class coach of one of those cute little British trains, considering half afraid and half amused: “Hey Greg you might be on your way to find the grail in your cute little blue and yellow train or you might put yourself in a mess once again. Well, she sounded quite nice on the phone”. The train reaches Oxted. I register a couple of fast heart beats but I am more excited than anxious. Somebody is waiting for me at the station: he looks pretty normal. Through a lovely and quiet countryside, I walk to HH Mataji’s home. I ring the bell: the ddor opens. HH Mataji comes into the hall. “Mes hommages Madame”… I offer my homage. I had bought flowers at Victoria Station.

What happens when I meet HH Mataji is rather stupefying. In a few minutes I feel I am known by somebody who makes me feel like “back home” or “the return of the prodigal child”. I am welcomed by somebody endowed with essential goodness, simplicity and love. It is difficult to express these feelings. I do not know HH Mataji and yet I know her. For the first time, since a long , long time I feel completely relaxed and begin to speak to her with absolute confidence and simplicity.

She is asking me questions about my family, my health and why I have only a little shirt because I am going to catch a cold. I answer. I tell also that I have been looking for something, it is truth I guess, but I have not found it and I am tired. She smiles. She says smilingly, “I will have to test you.”I burst out laughing, “Oh you can test” – How was the travel? – the travel was alright. We take a cup of tea. Her voice is so sweet, so tender. I can feel she is absolutely honest. I am wrapped in a deep, soothing motherly love. And I become very fond of her. Everything is so simple. Everything will be alright. The house is silent. Sunshine enters through the window. She says she knows me. I know she does. She does: it is strange and beautiful. Within myself, something resurrects, something I had almost forgotten: my own goodness, my own dignity. I am so very happy. Peace has come in me. Mataji who are you? She wears a white saree.

We did not spend hours talking. After some time I entered a new state of consciousness in the only way that my intelligence could accept: I knew that this little mind could not comprehend Reality but that Reality should comprehend it. It roughly happened this way.

Extract from ‘The Advent’ by Gregoire de Kalbermatten:

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