In 1971, my father, poet Narendra Dev, passed away, leaving behind a detailed to-do list for me, beginning with how to rent a hearse to carry him to the newly opened electric crematorium, how not to not to arrange a kangali bhojan (feeding the poor) but to give the money to Mother Teresa. That was my introduction to Mother Teresa, whom I knew as a European nun taking care of orphans and the homeless and dying in Calcutta. We followed Baba’s wishes.
Next time I met Mother Teresa, in Mother House, with my elder daughter Antara, who was 15 and wished to serve the destitute in Nirmal Hriday. Mother was happy, but was strictly against a 15-year-old serving those breathing their last. As Nirmal Hriday was not a positive atmosphere for a child to be in, she strongly objected to it and invited Antara to join her in looking after the homeless kids, to come and play with the children whenever she had time.
Once I was in Bellaaggio, Italy, on Lake Como, as a visiting writer. We used to take small private...
