Ma Prem Apurva remembers an event from 1976
Well, here I am in one of the best hotels in Bombay called ‘Sun-n-Sand’. I have come to meet my mother’s friends who have some money for me that she has sent from England.
Johnny and Dora often come to Bombay from Calcutta (possibly to launder money) where he is in charge of a factory. The hotel, next to the beach, is really nice and there is a wedding reception taking place when I arrive. The women’s clothes are so beautiful.
It has been arranged that I can sleep in a room normally occupied by British Air staff, as it is vacant.
We go to the dining room in the evening to eat and watch the show.
We are joined by a slimy Norwegian business associate of Johnny’s, who is trying to chat me up!
The food is fantastic. I haven’t eaten like this for a long time, and probably won’t again for quite a while.
Tonight the entertainment features a limbo dancer. He is dressed in red, shiny, tight trousers and shirt. I watch totally fascinated, as he dances under the pole to exotic music.
Then he asks for a volunteer.
I’m there in a flash! I relax in his arms as he dances, carrying me under the pole. Everyone claps. Returning to the table, I realise something is wrong by the expression of horror on the faces of my hosts.
I follow their eyes and putting my hand to my neck, feel the puss dripping down.
A cyst that has been there for some time has burst. I flee to my room to clean up.
Returning to the table I explain that I have seen a doctor at the Red Cross Clinic who had advised me to let the cyst sort itself. I beg Dora not to tell my mother. She promises she won’t, but promptly makes a long distance call to report her fears.
In England my mother arranges to have the necessary injections for India (against her doctor’s advice). She books her ticket and is soon on her way to save her daughter.
Arriving at Bombay airport she peers out the exit gate as if she is in a jungle looking for a clearing. I see a small round woman with blonde curly hair and bright red lipstick. The relief on her face is palpable as she sees me waiting.
She is able to avoid the queues as she is employed as a clerk by the Ministry of Defence and has clearance to travel to India. She is ushered to the front and I lead her to our taxi.
On the journey to Poona she waves regally to the people on the side of the road whenever we slow down. There is an unspoken understanding with the taxi driver that all breaks must be at up-market coffee houses to avoid beggars.
Arriving in Poona, after she inspects my choice of mid-range hotels, we settle in the Blue Diamond Hotel, the best and most expensive one in town. This is the only one where she is convinced there will be no insects. I never tell her about the cockroach in the bathroom which I quickly dispose of.
This is such a change from my mattress on the floor in my tiny room in Sunder Lodge, where I have lived for two years. I could never show it to her as she would be very shocked.
Next we visit the ashram and she is really impressed and delighted to meet my friends. She then decides she would like to go to a Morning Discourse. I really think that as this would involve sitting with no cushion on a marble floor, she might find it difficult, but she is determined. Afterwards she recounts how she couldn’t believe how she had managed to sit for so long.
The next event she wishes to go to is Bhagwan’s Birthday Celebration. In preparation for meeting him she has an outfit made in Mahatma Gandhi Road. Several visits are necessary as the tailor makes some mistakes with the fitting. Thoroughly prepared for the Darshan she arrives bereft of makeup, her blonde hair immaculate despite the lack of lacquer to hold it in place. She joins the queue wearing a long green skirt and top. Without her bright red lipstick and makeup she still looks like a movie star. Green in a sea of orange.
Suddenly she disappears without a word to me. I assume it has all been too much, so she must have headed back to the Blue Diamond Hotel, but as I approach the front of the queue, I meet her leaving the Birthday Darshan looking radiant. “I met some friends at the front of the queue so I joined them. See you later!” she says.
I will never know what happened when she met Bhagwan. I will always wonder whether she went to shake his hand. All she would say was, “It was such a mystical experience I could never talk about it to you or your brother. Words aren’t enough.”
A few days later we left for Goa.
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