On the same tour about a dozen of us were chosen by the leader to visit a girls’ school in Delhi with Shri Mataji. The leader asked me to write a report about the visit, (I am a journalist) so I trailed behind Shri Mataji with my notebook, writing down everything I heard Her say to the principal who was showing Her around the school.
In the boardroom we were invited to sit round the huge oblong table. I sat in the nearest seat and then realised I was sitting directly across the table from Shri Mataji. Feeling embarrassed, I hoped She didn’t think I sat there on purpose. I tried not to stare at Her but at the same time did not want to look anywhere else. I put my notebook in my bag on the floor. People served us tea. Suddenly Shri Mataji looked directly at me and everyone and everything around us faded away.
‘Where do you come from?’ She said.
‘Australia,’ I managed to say. She looked at me deeply and sweetly.
‘I mean originally.’
I didn’t know what to say; I didn’t know what She meant. I am obviously a white Anglo-Celt. I wanted to give Her the correct answer but didn’t know what it was and couldn’t just sit in silence, so I said: ‘Er, um, my parents are originally from England.’
Shri Mother continued looking penetratingly and lovingly into my eyes, then She turned to Her right and spoke to the principal about the school and suddenly everything came back into focus; we were all still round the boardroom table, having afternoon tea. No one noticed. It took me about two years to work out that She was just reminding me of who and what I am – Her child, conceived in Her heart and born through Her Sahasrara.
Jenny Watling