it was Autumn. April is the loveliest season in Melbourne. It was in the evening of April the second, after a beautiful blue-sky day. We took a taxi, even though the meeting was in the nearest suburb, because we did not want to be late.

We wore our best clothes. I remember choosing my red corduroy jodhpurs for the occasion. This was certainly not a jeans event. If I had owned some suitable shoes I would have liked to have worn my red skirt.

There were three of us: two middle aged women and one nine year old girl.

We were full of expectation, because for more than a week we had been talking about the meeting and had kept the cutting from the paper on the fridge with Her photo and the words ‘Counsellor, Comforter, Redeemer’ and the time and place of the meeting. The words above the photo said: “Behold the Mother.” We had talked to all our friends and neighbours about this and they all agreed She looked lovely.

We had been alerted to watch for the advertised meeting by a friend in Sydney, a fellow seeker who had attended all Her programs there and said that he felt this teacher was really genuine. “I think she’s really got it” was his phrase, and, knowing him to be rather a skeptic, we had followed his advice - even buying the paper each day - a thing we never usually did, so we would not miss the notice.

The hall was in the stately Exhibition Buildings which have gardens of tall Plane trees around them and the evening air was scented with their autumn leaves.

The taxi driver was just commencing his night shift and had no change for our proffered twenty dollars so we took that as a good omen, I think we even suggested he come with us.

Inside the hall the few dozen people were sitting in scattered groups and talking softly. We proffered our note to the woman who had a small stack of pamphlets on sale for twenty cents each by the door, and she had no change either but gave us the pamphlet anyway. This was another hopeful sign.

The hall became very quiet. No-one had said anything, but the silence and stillness wrapped itself around the room.

The stage was empty except for a chair with a cloth over it and a table with some flowers and a candle and a glass of water. There was a chart of a figure in a lotus position with information about chakras and since we were well versed in the idea of Hatha Yoga, we were half expecting the lecture to involve information about the correct way to do the asanas.

Then, into that stillness, Shri Mataji came, from our left and across the low platform.

The air around Her seemed to glow with a golden radiance.

She seemed to glide, rather than walk to the chair, and was seated, smiling at us, all in one movement.

The man who followed Her wake, took up the microphone and gave his introduction, explaining things about the chakras on the chart and giving so much information that we began to feel impatient. Would he never let us hear Her voice?

At last he relinquished his microphone and Shri Mataji spoke about the purpose of the chakras inside us and how they were designed as a built-in balance system and how it related to all the teachings of the traditional religions and was designed to help humanity towards the goal of realising their relationship with the Divine Spirit which was also within us all.

We felt soothed and reassured that the words we were hearing were completely true and that there was a wealth of further knowledge behind them, which would become accessible to us.

Shri Mataji told us she would continue in a further meeting next week to tell us about the chakras which there had not been time to explain in this one.

Then She asked us to take our shoes off and to close our eyes and told us that She would raise our Kundalini.

Right now! Just like that! This was so unexpected: so exciting. But Her whole manner and the tone of Her talk - which had been so authoritative made me eager to trust Her, although my experience had made me conscious of how far I really had to go to reach Self -Realisation.

When I felt above my head the breeze was so gentle I wondered if it was really there at all, but my nine-year old daughter looked at me with her radiant face and large eyes and was astonished at my doubts and I felt above her head where the fountain of coolness gushed up so strongly I could almost have rested my hand on it. She had absolutely no doubts. Clearly the fault was with my rather worn instrument.

I resumed my gaze at Shri Mataji.

There were some people who obviously seemed to know Her and who now rushed to greet Her and exchange hugs. I was looking on enviously thinking how privileged they were to be so friendly and I was silently wishing: “If only She would just smile at me.”

To my amazement then: I felt Her smiling inside my own heart.