Mr. Ojha

(Amrit:) “Being Indian, Ojha was sympathetic to my practice of puja. Informing me that he too did puja, he asked if someday he could accompany me to meet Panditji in Rameshwaram, though in the end, this did not materialize. He also offered fatherly advice on how to deal with the Collective and their anti-Tantric stance. “Just tell them you're not doing puja,” Ojha advised. “But that's a lie,” I responded. “Doesn't matter, just tell them, that's enough,” was his authoritative declaration. “Why do you criticize them?” he asked. “You should be like the three monkeys, hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. You never see me criticizing anyone, do you?” Ojha then launched into a vociferous condemnation of someone who had crossed him.
         Both F. and Ojha were apparently conspiring to have me reaccepted into the Collective, nudging me to abandon my other friends similarly ostracized. “Why do you still feel loyalty to your friends? Friendship is meaningless...” F. stated. Urging me to rejoin the Collective, he offered his guarantee, “I will protect you.” Similarly did Ojha counsel, “Why do you stay loyal to your friends? Don't be like the mother who rushing into a burning home to save her child, also perishes. Do you want to be like that?” Appalled, somehow, I could not find these values congruent with my own. ...
         Somehow associated with the CID (Crime Investigation Department) Ojha was apparently gathering information and compiling dossiers on Aurovilians and their activities. As revealed by the Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi herself to some of us in a later conversation, “He (Ojha) is not my administrator but my investigator.” Ojha would constantly be attempting to pry information out of me regarding everything and everyone. For the most part, he encountered a seemingly insurmountable barrier of “I don't know” or “It's not my business.”
         In one instance after inquiring about T. and D., he countered with an incredulous, “You're such a close friend, and you say you don't know?” “It's not my business,” I responded. One day, Ojha indicated knowledge of my participation in a group event (a birthday party) at Gratitude. “How did you know?” I asked. “I have my sources,” he smugly said. Since our corner of Certitude was relatively quiet, I could clearly hear Mr. and Mrs. Ojha indulging in their daily arguments, screaming at each other at the top of their voices, typical of the Bihari penchant to speak rather loudly. Nevertheless, even given his rough and often manipulative ways, this behavior concealed a softer nature. I liked Ojha, for in his own manner, he was trying to protect me.
         In a very real sense, Ojha was a concrete representation of the implications of the Government intervention, through no fault of his own, but more through the folly of those in Auroville calling for it.”

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See also

• 1980