I did a watercolour when I was about twelve, as a present for Shri Mataji. My father also helped me with it, as it was a bit complicated for my technical skills at that age. In the original, the area in the bottom half was depicted as though it was rising from the earth, or was made out of it. I gave it to Shri Mataji at Nightingale Lane Ashram in South London, in about 1982. Anyone who remembers the Nightingale Lane house will recall that Shri Mataji had a room on the ground floor overlooking the garden which was in a long corridor that went almost the length of the house and the room was also near to the entrance hall, which had a large staircase leading around it to the upper floor.
The garden was quite large for a suburban house; the building had once been a nursing home, but there was more than enough space for pujas as there weren’t very many yogis then, and some pujas took place in the middle of the garden with plenty of grass around. I recall one where I was sitting towards at the back, and can’t have been more than thirty feet from Shri Mataji.
I cannot recall the occasion when I gave the image to Shri Mataji with great precision, but I do remember sitting outside in the corridor waiting to see Her, and being able to hear Her talking and laughing behind the closed door. When I was little I never felt or thought about the awe and opportunity of being in Shri Mataji’s presence, but by that age I had started to become more self-conscious, and would worry about whether I was doing the right thing or my attention was in the right place when near to Her. That was why I was rather worried that She would not approve of the present and my heart was thumping as I waited. Fortunately She did enjoy it. She studied it quite intently for a few seconds before looking up and making a comment which I do not remember, but it completely relieved my worries.
I also recall, around that time, the yogis sitting up with Shri Mataji most of the night watching Indian movies in a large room to the right of the entrance hall, which was also where we had pujas when She was not present. The movies were the classic kind with great booming villains with massive handlebar moustaches and one was probably a version of the Ramayana, as I recall endless shots of arrows flying in the air. I remember the occasion fairly well as it was the first time I had ever been up into the small hours. Sitting in the dark, with the light of the little TV illuminating Shri Mataji and the yogis around Her seemed like some kind of unusual world I was suddenly lucky enough to experience – though I had difficulty staying awake after it got quite late.
Kevin Anslow