"I once told Mother that if she gave me the money she spent on petrol for cars in the order, I would become a millionaire," quips a priest who knew her for nearly half-a-century. While Sister Nirmala clarifies that auditors check the accounts each year, others say -- barring a few sisters -- no one know exactly the order's financial status.

In Mother's absence, it is these two pillars supporting the future of the order that could be in jeopardy. Sister Nirmala says 180 girls joined the congregation this past year. However, the order does not disclose the number of new entrants the year before. Though Sister Nirmala laughs, stating she would prefer at least 1,800 annually, she does not fear a drop in the number of recruits. "If we remain faithful to God, he will help us with noviciates and money," she asserts.

Reportedly, 50 noviciates are due for vows next year, while only 25 girls have joined this year. "Many girls joined the congregation due to Mother Teresa. In her absence that may drop, but she still remains an icon, powerful enough to draw many," says Monsignor Barber. Some in the Catholic church maintain a fall in the numbers of novices coming from Kerala -- till recently, the country's leading source for aspirant nuns -- could affect the Missionaries of Charity as well. "As of now the number of novices seem to be the same, at least in India. I wouldn't know about the international status," adds Archbishop Henry D'Souza of Calcutta.

Others say it is too early to assess whether the number of novices, or the quantum of funds will decrease in Mother Teresa's absence. The society draws greater funds than most other organisations because its benefactors are assured that whatever they give is used in totality for a noble cause. "I would say people have been more generous in the past year because of their sympathy for the order after Mother's death," confirms Sunita Kumar, "So one should not look at their future in a negative way. It surely will flourish."

Insiders reveal that most funds come from sources who find it suitable to help the Missionaries of Charity, rather than work for the poor themselves. A priest remembers how a Marwari -- considered quite a miser in his community -- donated all the beds and mattresses for one of Mother Teresa's early homes. "It is because their work is inspiring that people give donations liberally," points out Naresh Kumar, India's former Davis Cup captain who along with wife Sunita has assisted the order consistently.

Some are convinced that Mother's image will keep the organisation alive. Orthopaedic surgeon Dr Sunil Thakur, author of Mother As I Saw Her, believes that because Mother commanded such respect, the society's work will remain unchanged. "There may have been some differences of opinion in the highest authorities of the society temporarily, but it does not undermine their service," says Dr Thakur, "Just like the Ramakrishna Mission, Buddhism or Islam -- the Missionaries of Charity will remain for years to come."

Dr Thakur first met Mother Teresa ten years ago at the Calcutta Medical College, where she had brought a badly injured Sister Geetika. Due for her final vows in a couple of months, Sister Geetika had suffered multiple fractures in an accident. Her mandibles were fractured and Mother was wiping the blood from her mouth when Dr Thakur started treatment.

"In due course all her bones healed except the left collar bone. I told Mother that another was needed but she asked me to wait for a month. She then put a medal of Mother Mary on the bone with a tape. And a month later, I could not believe it -- the bone had almost healed completely!" marvels the doctor.

People associated with the congregation assert that Mother Teresa groomed Sister Nirmala and the senior consuls of the order very well. Sister Nirmala travelled extensively with Mother Teresa. Moreover, they say, she is educated, quietly assertive and an able administrator. "She is now getting a chance to use her intelligence," adds co-worker Chandramani Agarwalla.

However, the order's detractors -- and there are a few -- think otherwise. Anthony Arun Biswas, president of the All India Minority and Weaker Sections Council, thinks the MoC will fade away "very quickly." "The sisters were already breaking Mother's wishes shortly after her death. Even when they knew Mother wanted to be buried at the St John's cemetery -- where the other sisters are interred -- they buried her at Mother House. All this because they did not want to miss out on the donations that would come from foreigners visiting the tomb," rasps the former school teacher.

A senior priest feels the move to inter her at Mother House may have been driven by the idea of having the founder's grave at their headquarters, and not as a device to generate funds. He, however, adds that, ''the sisters had gone crazy during the funeral,'' and that they hoped to exhume the body should it be a requirement for canonisation.

Biswas is further agitated with Sister Nirmala because it was on her intervention with West Bengal Chief Minister Jyoti Basu that the Mother Teresa Memorial Committee had to stall its plans for installing a statue of Mother at Park Circus in Calcutta. Since Sister Nirmala objected to raising funds in Mother's name for the statue, the committee filed a case in the Calcutta high court -- it will come for hearing this month.

"The sisters think Mother only belongs to them. We requested one of the sisters to be on the committee, so that they would know the money is not being misused," he rues. Under the aegis of the Minority Council, Biswas had staged a fast and given a memorandum of protest to the British high commission against the Channel 4 documentary Hell's Angel some years ago. The documentary, commissioned by Sixties' enfant terrible Tariq Ali and directed by British columnist Christopher Hitchens, claimed the order accepted donations from notorious individuals like Haitian dictator 'Baby Doc' Jean Claude Duvalier.

Convinced that the deterioration in the order had begun during Mother's last days, Biswas says -- even if Mother wanted -- sisters prevented ordinary people from meeting her. A precaution that many say was imperative for an ailing Mother. "Sisters only protected her because she was ill and could not bear the strain," says the frail Michael Gomes, who was turned away once and later called back on Mother's insistence.

Gomes and his wife are now the only occupants of the floor that was once occupied by a fledgling Missionaries of Charity. "They were 29 of them when they left this house after spending three years here," he recalls. Prominent in his old house -- one of the 11 owned by his timber merchant grandfather -- is a painting and picture of Mother Teresa. While just above his sofa hangs the picture of Sister Maria Goretti, his 21-year-old niece who joined Mother Teresa and died of a short illness in 1953.