Ireland

Then we went to Ireland. In Ireland, we had the greatest success of all. Ireland took me immediately as its very own. The press was very courteous, very sympathetic and understanding. Everything they wrote was full of appreciative understanding.  
 
I gave a talk at Trinity College in Dublin. It was wonderful. All of a sudden, a divine inspiration entered into Alo. This was before the press came. Her inspiration was to go personally to three different newspapers and tell them about me. Naturally they wanted to see me, so she invited them to my hotel. My room was on the sixth floor and the tiny elevator was not working. They didn't mind. They climbed up six flights of stairs, huffing and puffing. These reporters came with deep respect and interviewed me very politely, from three papers.  
 
There I saw a real fight amongst the photographers of the various newspapers. One photographer asked me to take this pose and the other one said, "No, we want him to take a better pose." The third one said, "No, no, no, those poses don't show his Indian robes to their best advantage. I want him to stand this way, not sit that way." At one point they were actually fighting. Different photographers from different newspapers finally decided to each take their own photos. So in three newspapers there are totally different pictures. You have seen the cuttings.  
 
Very, very nice articles they wrote. One of them claimed me to be their Guru. the Guru of Ireland. It was so sweet and moving. To get back to the University of Dublin, Trinity College, they asked very sincere—very sincere—questions.  
 
By the way, you know that Swami Vivekananda's greatest disciple, Sister Nivedita, was born in Ireland. Her original name was Margaret Noble. So I told the audience a few things about her and about Swami Vivekananda's teachings. They were very struck by my comments as they had totally, as a country almost, forgotten about Sister Nivedita. But in India, she has always been deeply admired for her spirituality and sacrifice.  
 
Now something else is coming to my mind about Nivedita. While I was still working at the Indian Consulate, I would go occasionally on my lunch hour to Central Park, which is just a couple of blocks from the Consulate. I was very fond of (and am even now fond of) animals. So I went to the small zoo in Central Park, and I was looking at a lion. The lion was roaring inside his cage. All of a sudden I saw Nivedita right in front of me. I had been looking at the lion and was rather sad because I had to work so hard at the Consulate and was rewarded, it seemed, by having so much trouble getting the Indian Government to allow me to stay in the United States. They wanted me to return to India by a certain date because I had only a regular visa which limited me to six months in the United States.  
 
I saw myself as a lion in a cage. Sister Nivedita said to me, Look, this lion is roaring. Soon you are also going to roar, roar, roar all over the world. My Master, Swami Vivekananda, roared; he played his role. Now you too will roar all around the world. Your time is coming. You are the lion. This animal, this lion, is roaring but cannot come out of his cage. You are now in a cage; you are at the Indian Consulate. But soon you will be out of the cage and, at that time, you will roar all over the world. You will do infinite things on earth for the Supreme."  
 
Sister Nivedita said many more things about which I cannot speak but which, in my life, I will be able to prove true, if such is the Will of God.  
 
So there, in Dublin, Ireland, while I was being interviewed by these press people, I was feeling her presence. When all the interviews were over, I saw her right in front of me once more. Again we had a most significant conversation. As you know, spiritual people do not die. Though it was so many years ago that she left the body, she is still roaming around. She is still alive. So ... a most significantly special trip, this one to Ireland and the University of Dublin.  
 
A disciple of mine from New England had written a letter to one of his friends who comes from Ireland but who is now in the States. That boy wrote to one of his friends who studies at Dublin University. So at the end of the talk, this friend came up to me and said, "I want to be your disciple." I answered, "If you want to be my disciple, it is wonderful." Immediately four or five other students insisted, "We want to be your disciples, too." Then I said, "Then this could be a type of small Centre. Tomorrow I am going away. But right now, there is a room where I could teach you how to meditate, and then you must keep some connection with me." They agreed very earnestly.  
 
So we went into a room where we were to meditate, and to my surprise, twenty or twenty-five other students followed us. I asked, "Why are you all coming?" They answered, "We also want to be in your group. First we want to learn how to meditate."  
 
So I taught them all for a few minutes how to meditate. Out of the twenty-two or twenty-five, I saw that six or seven were drug addicts. I told them that I could not accept them as my disciples, that it was impossible. Another two or three had come only out of curiosity. But ten or eleven were extremely serious and made an inner decision to become real seeker-disciples. These students have been writing most devoted letters to us. They are running the Centre in Dublin very well. I am so proud of them.  130
 
Poor Alo, in all the universities, she had to do everything. She had to make all the last-minute arrangements for the halls, the lights, the microphones. She had to become the photographer. Many times our tape recorder failed, and all my talks were extemporaneous; nothing was prepared by me beforehand. All the talks were given on the spur of the moment. Here I was going to give a talk on "Attachment and Detachment," a very significant talk. The tape recorder failed. Alo used shorthand which she had learned at the age of sixteen. She started to take down my talk in Pitman's shorthand and she actually succeeded even though she had forgotten so much shorthand. It was such an important talk on "Attachment and Detachment."  
 
And she has to take photographs to retain the memories of our many activities. This moment she has to become the photographer and the next moment she has to become the stenographer. Then she has to see if my voice is coming through to the audience. I felt so sorry for her that day. She was speaking to the press, talking to the technicians at the University, writing, taking photos, talking to the seekers, making hotel arrangements, getting my Indian robes laundered and speaking to her old friends from the University of Toronto who had come to my lecture. They had not seen her since they all graduated in 1954.  
 
At home in New York, Alo works at our Centre in Queens from 6:00 a.m. to 2:00 a.m. the next morning. She does all our correspondence from all over the world. She transcribes the tapes of all my Sunday and Thursday talks. She does all the cooking, the cleaning of our ten-room Centre, the gardening, the purchasing of food and the laundry. Preparing our Centre for the twice-weekly meditations is one of her most time-consuming jobs. It takes more than two hours. She has to vacuum the rugs, put out the heavy folding chairs, arrange the flowers, incense and candles. Decorating our shrine takes a long time since she puts fresh candles in the vigil-lights each time. 

[Extracts from "Anecdotes about the European Lecture Tour, 27 January, AUM Centre, San Juan, Puerto Rico" in Sri Chinmoy, The Master Speaks To The Puerto Rican Disciples 1966-1972, Agni Press, Jamaica, NY, 1993, pp. 79-112.]