{"id":1976,"date":"2013-07-13T01:38:39","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T08:38:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=1976"},"modified":"2013-11-28T15:07:50","modified_gmt":"2013-11-28T23:07:50","slug":"13-family-letters-1890-1919-vol-36-autobiographical-notes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/01-works-of-sri-aurobindo\/03-cwsa\/36-autobiographical-notes\/13-family-letters-1890-1919-vol-36-autobiographical-notes","title":{"rendered":"-13_Family Letters, 1890 – 1919.htm"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\n\n
\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPart Two <\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLetters of Historical Interest<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n

\n

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\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\tSection One <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\tLetters on Personal, Practical
\nand Political Matters <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t1890 \u00ad 1926<\/b><\/font><\/p>\n

\n

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\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n<\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\tFamily Letters, 1890 \u00ad 1919 <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\tExtract from a Letter to His Father <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLast night I was invited to coffee with one of the Dons and in his rooms I met the Great g, who is
\nthe feature par excellence of King’s. He was extremely flattering; passing from the subject of cotillions to that of scholarships he
\nsaid to me “I suppose you know you passed an extraordinarily high examination. I have examined papers at thirteen examinations and I have never during that time [seen] such excellent papers as yours (meaning my classical papers at the scholarship
\nexamination). As for your essay it was wonderful.” In this essay (a comparison between Shakespeare and Milton) I indulged
\nin my Oriental tastes to the top of their bent; it overflowed with rich and tropical imagery; it abounded in antitheses and
\nepigrams and it expressed my real feelings without restraint or reservation. I thought myself that it was the best thing I
\nhad ever done, but at school I would have been condemned as extraordinarily Asiatic & bombastic. The Great O.B. afterwards
\nasked me where my rooms were & when I had answered he said “That wretched hole!” then turning to Mahaffy “How rude we
\nare to our scholars! we get great minds to come down here and then shut them up in that box! I suppose it is to keep their
\npride down.” <\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t1890
\n   <\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 121<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n

To His Grandfather <\/a>
\n<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Gujaria
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Vijapur Taluka <\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

N. Gujerat. <\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Jan 11. 1894.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

My dear Grandfather
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tI received your telegram & postcard together this afternoon. I am at present in an exceedingly out of the way place, without
\nany post-office within fifteen miles of it; so it would not be easy to telegraph. I shall probably be able to get to Bengal by the end
\nof next week. I had intended to be there by this time, but there is some difficulty about my last month’s salary without which I
\ncannot very easily move. However I have written for a month’s privileged leave & as soon as it is sanctioned shall make ready
\nto start. I shall pass by Ajmere & stop for a day with Beno. My articles are with him; I will bring them on with me. As I do not
\nknow Urdu, or indeed any other language of the country, I may find it convenient to bring my clerk with me. I suppose there
\nwill be no difficulty about accommodating him.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI got my uncle’s letter inclosing Soro’s, the latter might have
\npresented some difficulties, for there is no one who knows Bengali in Baroda
\n\u2014 no one at least whom I could get at. Fortunately
\nthe smattering I acquired in England stood me in good stead, and I was able to make out the sense of the letter, barring a word
\nhere and a word there.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDo you happen to know a certain Akshaya Kumara Ghosha,
\nresident in Bombay who claims to be a friend of the family? He has opened a correspondence with me
\n\u2014 I have also seen him
\nonce at Bombay \u2014 & wants me to join him in some very laudable enterprises which he has on hand. I have given him that sort
\nof double-edged encouragement which civility demanded, but as his letters seemed to evince some defect either of perfect sanity
\nor perfect honesty, I did not think it prudent to go farther than that, without some better credentials than a self-introduction.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tIf all goes well, I shall leave Baroda on the 18th; at any rate
\n\t\t\t<\/font>
\n\t\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013
\n\t\t\t122<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n

it will not be more than a day or two later.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Believe me
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Your affectionate grandson
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Aravind A. Ghose
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

To His Sister
\n<\/a>
\n<\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

[Baroda Camp
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

25 August 1894]
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

My dear Saro,<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI got your letter the day before yesterday. I have been trying
\nhard to write to you for the last three weeks, but have hitherto failed. Today I am making a huge effort and hope to put the
\nletter in the post before nightfall. As I am now invigorated by three days’ leave, I almost think I shall succeed.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tIt will be, I fear, quite impossible to come to you again so early as the Puja, though if I only could, I should start tomorrow.
\nNeither my affairs, nor my finances will admit of it. Indeed it was a great mistake for me to go at all; for it has made Baroda
\nquite intolerable to me. There is an old story about Judas Iscariot, which suits me down to the ground. Judas, after betraying
\nChrist, hanged himself and went to Hell where he was honoured with the hottest oven in the whole establishment. Here he must
\nburn for ever and ever; but in his life he had done one kind act and for this they permitted him by special mercy of God to
\ncool himself for an hour every Christmas on an iceberg in the North Pole. Now this has always seemed to me not mercy, but a
\npeculiar refinement of cruelty. For how could Hell fail to be ten times more Hell to the poor wretch after the delicious coolness
\nof his iceberg? I do not know for what enormous crime I have been condemned to Baroda but my case is just parallel. Since
\nmy pleasant sojourn with you at Baidyanath, Baroda seems a hundred times more Baroda.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI dare say Beno may write to you three or four days before he leaves England. But you must think yourself lucky if he does
\nas much as that. Most likely the first you hear of him, will be  
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 123<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n

a telegram from Calcutta. Certainly he has not written to me. I never expected and should be afraid to get a letter. It would
\nbe such a shocking surprise that I should certainly be able to do nothing but roll on the floor and gasp for breath for the next
\ntwo or three hours. No, the favours of the Gods are too awful to be coveted. I dare say he will have energy enough to hand over
\nyour letter to Mano as they must be seeing each other almost daily. You must give Mano a little time before he answers you.
\nHe too is Beno’s brother. Please let me have Beno’s address as I don’t know where to send a letter I have ready for him. Will
\nyou also let me have the name of Bari’s English Composition Book and its compiler? I want such a book badly, as this will be
\nuseful for me not only in Bengalee but in Guzerati. There are no convenient books like that here.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tYou say in your letter “all here are quite well”; yet in the very next sentence I read “Bari has an attack of fever”. Do you mean
\nthen that Bari is nobody? Poor Bari! That he should be excluded from the list of human beings, is only right and proper; but it is
\na little hard that he should be denied existence altogether. I hope it is only a slight attack. I am quite well. I have brought a fund
\nof health with me from Bengal, which, I hope it will take me some time to exhaust; but I have just passed my twenty-second
\nmilestone, August 15 last, since my birthday and am beginning to get dreadfully old.
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tI infer from your letter that you are making great progress in English. I hope you will learn very quickly; I can then write
\nto you quite what I want to say and just in the way I want to say it. I feel some difficulty in doing that now and I don’t know
\nwhether you will understand it.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tWith love,
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tYour affectionate brother,
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAuro
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\nP.S. If you want to understand the new orthography of my name, ask uncle.
\nA.  
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 124<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n
\n Extract from a Letter to His Brother
\n\t<\/a> <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n  <\/p>\n

\n \tOnly a short while ago I had a letter from you
\n\u2014 I cannot lay my
\nhands on the passage, but I remember it contained an unreserved condemnation of Hindu legend as trivial and insipid, a mass of
\ncrude and monstrous conceptions, a [lumber-room]1<\/sup> of Hindu banalities. The main point of your indictment was that it had
\nnothing in it simple, natural, passionate and human, that the characters were lifeless patterns of moral excellence.
\n\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tI have been so long accustomed to regard your taste and judgment as sure and final that it is with some distrust I find
\nmyself differing from you. Will you permit me then to enter into some slight defence of what you have so emphatically
\ncondemned and explain why I venture to dedicate a poem on a Hindu subject, written in the Hindu spirit and constructed
\non Hindu principles of taste, style and management, to you who regard all these things as anathema maranatha? I am not
\nattempting to convince you, only to justify, or at least define my own standpoint; perhaps also a little to reassure myself in the
\nline of poetical art I have chosen.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThe impression that Hindu Myth has made on you, is its
\ninevitable aspect to a taste nourished on the pure dew and honey of Hellenic tradition; for the strong Greek sense of symmetry
\nand finite beauty is in conflict with the very spirit of Hinduism, which is a vast attempt of the human intellect to surround the
\nuniverse with itself, an immense measuring of itself with the infinite and amorphous. Hellenism must necessarily see in the
\ngreater part of Hindu imaginations and thoughts a mass of crude fancies equally removed from the ideal and the real. But when
\nit condemns all Hindu legend without distinction, I believe it is acting from an instinct which is its defect,
\n\u2014 the necessary defect
\nof its fine quality. For in order to preserve a pure, sensitive and severe standard of taste and critical judgment, it is compelled to
\nbe intolerant; to insist, that is, on its own limits and rule out all that exceeds them, as monstrous and unbeautiful. It rejects that
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t1 MS (typed) <\/i>lumber-loom  
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 125<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n

flexible sympathy based on curiosity of temperament, which attempts to project itself into differing types as it meets them and so
\npass on through ever-widening artistic experiences to its destined perfection. And it rejects it because such catholicity would break
\nthe fine mould into which its own temperament is cast. This is well; yet is there room in art and criticism for that other, less fine
\nbut more many-sided, which makes possible new elements and strong departures. Often as the romantic temperament stumbles
\nand creates broken and unsure work, sometimes it scores one of those signal triumphs which subject new art forms to the service
\nof poetry or open up new horizons to poetical experience. What judgment would such a temperament, seeking its good where it
\ncan find it, but not grossly indiscriminating, not ignobly satisfied, pronounce on the Hindu legends?
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI would carefully distinguish between two types of myth, the religious-philosophical allegory and the genuine secular legend.
\nThe former is beyond the pale of profitable argument. Created by the allegorical and symbolising spirit of mediaeval Hinduism,
\nthe religious myths are a type of poetry addressed to a peculiar mental constitution, and the sudden shock of the bizarre which
\nrepels occidental imagination the moment it comes in contact with Puranic literature, reveals to us where the line lies that must
\neternally divide East from West. The difference is one of root-temperament and therefore unbridgeable. There is the mental
\ncomposition which has no facet towards imaginative religion, and if it accepts religion at all, requires it to be plain, precise
\nand dogmatic; to such these allegories must always seem false in art and barren in significance. And there is the mental composition in which a strong metaphysical bent towards religion combines with an imaginative tendency seeking symbol both as
\nan atmosphere around religion, which would otherwise dwell on too breathless mountaintops, and as a safeguard against the
\nspirit of dogma. These find in Hindu allegory a perpetual delight and refreshment; they believe it to be powerful and penetrating,
\nsometimes with an epical daring of idea and an inspiration of searching appropriateness which not unoften dissolves into a
\nstrange and curious beauty. The strangeness permeating these   <\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 126<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nlegends is a vital part of themselves, and to eliminate the bizarre in them \u2014 bizarre to European notion, for to us they seem striking and natural \u2014 would be to emasculate them of the most characteristic part of their strength. Let us leave this type aside
\nthen as beyond the field of fruitful discussion.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThere remain the secular legends; and it is true that a great
\nnumber of them are intolerably puerile and grotesque. My point is that the puerility is no essential part of them but lies in their
\npresentment, and that presentment again is characteristic of the Hindu spirit not in its best and most self-realising epochs. They
\nwere written in an age of decline, and their present form is the result of a literary accident. The Mahabharata of Vyasa, originally
\nan epic of 24,000 verses, afterwards enlarged by a redacting poet, was finally submerged in a vast mass of inferior accretions,
\nthe work often of a tasteless age and unskilful hands. It is in this surface mass that the majority of the Hindu legends have floated
\ndown to our century. So preserved, it is not surprising that the old simple beauty of the ancient tales should have come to us
\nmarred and disfigured, as well as debased by association with later inventions which have no kernel of sweetness. And yet very
\nsimple and beautiful, in their peculiar Hindu type, were these old legends with infinite possibilities of sweetness and feeling, and in
\nthe hands of great artists have blossomed into dramas and epics of the most delicate tenderness or the most noble sublimity. One
\nwho glances at the dead and clumsy narrative of the Shacountala legend in the Mahabharata and reads after it Kalidasa’s masterpiece in which delicate dramatic art and gracious tenderness of feeling reach their climax, at once perceives how they vary with
\nthe hands which touch them.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut you are right. The Hindu myth has not the warm passionate life of the Greek. The Hindu mind was too austere and idealistic to be sufficiently sensitive to the rich poetical colouring
\ninherent in crime and sin and overpowering passion; an Oedipus or an Agamemnon stands therefore outside the line of its
\ncreative faculty. Yet it had in revenge a power which you will perhaps think no compensation at all, but which to a certain
\nclass of minds, of whom I confess myself one, seems of a very  
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

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\n

\n

real and distinct value. Inferior in warmth and colour and quick life and the savour of earth to the Greek, they had a superior
\nspiritual loveliness and exaltation; not clothing the surface of the earth with imperishable beauty, they search deeper into the
\nwhite-hot core of things and in their cyclic orbit of thought curve downward round the most hidden fountains of existence
\nand upward over the highest, almost invisible arches of ideal possibility. Let me touch the subject a little more precisely. The
\ndifference between the Greek and Hindu temperaments was that one was vital, the other supra-vital; the one physical, the other
\nmetaphysical; the one sentient of sunlight as its natural atmosphere and the bound of its joyous activity, the other regarding
\nit as a golden veil which hid from it beautiful and wonderful things for which it panted.2<\/sup> The Greek aimed at limit and finite
\nperfection, because he felt vividly all our bounded existence; the Hindu mind, ranging into the infinite tended to the enormous
\nand moved habitually in the sublime. This is poetically a dangerous tendency; finite beauty, symmetry and form are always
\nlovely, and Greek legend, even when touched by inferior poets, must always keep something of its light and bloom and human
\ngrace or of its tragic human force. But the infinite is not for all hands to meddle with; it submits only to the compulsion of
\nthe mighty, and at the touch of an inferior mind recoils over the boundary of the sublime into the grotesque. Hence the enormous
\ndifference of level between different legends or the same legend in different hands,
\n\u2014 the sublimity or tenderness of the best, the
\nbanality of the worst, with little that is mediocre and intermediate shading the contrast away. To take with a reverent hand
\nthe old myths and cleanse them of soiling accretions, till they shine with some of the antique strength, simplicity and solemn
\ndepth of beautiful meaning, is an ambition which Hindu poets<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t2 O fostering Sun, who hast hidden the face of Truth with thy golden shield, displace
\nthat splendid veil from the vision of the righteous man, O Sun.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tO fosterer, O solitary traveller, O Sun, O Master of Death, O child of God, dissipate
\nthy beams, gather inward thy light; so shall I behold that splendour, thy goodliest form of all. For the Spirit who is there and there, He am I.
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThe Isha Upanishad<\/i>.  
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 128<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nof today may and do worthily cherish. To accomplish a similar duty in a foreign tongue is a more perilous endeavour.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI have attempted in the following narrative to bring one of our old legends before the English public in a more attractive
\ngarb than could be cast over them by mere translation or by the too obvious
\nhandling of writers like Sir Edwin Arnold; \u2014
\npreserving its inner spirit and Hindu features, yet rejecting no device that might smooth away the sense of roughness and the
\nbizarre which always haunts what is unfamiliar, and win for it the suffrages of a culture to which our mythological conventions are unknown and our canons of taste unacceptable. The attempt is necessarily beset with difficulties and pitfalls. If you
\nthink I have even in part succeeded, I shall be indeed gratified; if otherwise, I shall at least have the consolation of having failed
\nwhere failure was more probable than success.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThe story of Ruaru is told in the very latest accretion-layer
\nof the Mahabharata, in a bald and puerile narrative without force, beauty or insight. Yet it is among the most significant and
\npowerful in idea of our legends; for it is rather an idea than a tale. Bhrigou, the grandfather of Ruaru, is almost the most
\naugust and venerable name in Vedic literature. Set there at the very threshold of Aryan history, he looms dim but large out of
\nthe mists of an incalculable antiquity, while around him move great shadows of unborn peoples and a tradition of huge
\n\t\t\thalf-discernible movements and vague but colossal revolutions. In later story his issue form one of the most sacred clans of Rishies,
\nand Purshurama, the destroyer of princes, was of his offspring. By the Titaness Puloma this mighty seer and patriarch, himself
\none of the mind-children of Brahma had a son Chyavan \u2014 who inherited even from the womb his father’s personality, greatness and ascetic energy. Chyavan too became an instructor and former of historic minds and a father of civilization; Ayus was
\namong his pupils, the child of Pururavas by Urvasie and founder of the Lunar or Ilian dynasty whose princes after the great civil
\nwars of the Mahabharata became Emperors of India. Chyavan’s son Pramati, by an Apsara or nymph of paradise, begot a son
\nnamed Ruaru, of whom this story is told. This Ruaru, later,  
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

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\n

became a great Rishi like his fathers, but in his youth he was engrossed with his love for a beautiful girl whom he had made
\nhis wife, the daughter of the Gundhurva King, Chitroruth, by the sky-nymph Menaca; an earlier sister therefore of Shacountala.
\nTheir joy of union was not yet old when Priyumvada perished, like Eurydice, by the fangs of a snake. Ruaru inconsolable for
\nher loss, wandered miserable among the forests that had been the shelter and witnesses of their loves, consuming the universe
\nwith his grief, until the Gods took pity on him and promised him his wife back, if he sacrificed for her half his life. To this
\nRuaru gladly assented and, the price paid, was reunited with his love.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSuch is the story, divested of the subsequent puerile developments by which it is linked on to the Mahabharata. If we
\ncompare it with the kindred tale of Eurydice, the distinction I have sought to draw between the Hindu and Greek
\n\t\t\tmytho-poetic faculty, justifies itself with great force and clearness. The incidents of Orpheus’ descent into Hades, his conquering Death
\nand Hell by his music and harping his love back to the sunlight, and the tragic loss of her at the moment of success through a
\ntoo natural and beautiful human weakness, has infinite fancy, pathos, trembling human emotion. The Hindu tale, barren of
\nthis subtlety and variety is bare of incident and wanting in tragedy. It is merely a bare idea for a tale. Yet what an idea
\nit supplies! How deep and searching is that thought of half the living man’s life demanded as the inexorable price for the
\nrestoration of his dead! How it seems to knock at the very doors of human destiny, and give us a gust of air from worlds beyond
\nour own suggesting illimitable and unfathomable thoughts of our potentialities and limitations.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI have ventured in this poem to combine, as far as might be, the two temperaments, the Greek pathetic and the Hindu
\nmystic; yet I have carefully preserved the essence of the Hindu spirit and the Hindu mythological features. The essential idea
\nof these Hindu legends, aiming, as they do, straight and sheer at the sublime and ideal, gives the writer no option but to attempt
\nepic tone and form, \u2014 I speak of course of those which are  
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 130<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\nnot merely beautiful stories of domestic life. In the choice of an epic setting I had the alternative of entirely Hellenising the
\nmyth or adopting the method of Hindu Epic. I have preferred the course which I fear, will least recommend itself to you.
\nThe true subject of Hindu epic is always a struggle between two ideal forces universal and opposing, while the human and
\ndivine actors, the Supreme Triad excepted, are pawns moved to and fro by immense world-impulses which they express but
\ncannot consciously guide. It is perhaps the Olympian ideal in life struggling with the Titanic ideal, and then we have a Ramaian.
\nOr it may be the imperial ideal in government and society marshalling the forces of order, self-subjection, self-effacement,
\njustice, equality, against the aristocratic ideal, with self-will, violence, independence, self-assertion, feudal loyalty, the sway
\nof the sword and the right of the stronger at its back; this is the key of the Mahabharata. Or it is again, as in the tale of
\nSavitrie, the passion of a single woman in its dreadful silence and strength pitted against Death, the divorcer of souls. Even
\nin a purely domestic tale like the Romance of Nul, the central idea is that of the Spirit of Degeneracy, the genius of the Iron
\nage, overpowered by a steadfast conjugal love. Similarly, in this story of Ruaru and Priyumvada the great Spirits who preside
\nover Love and Death, Cama and Yama, are the real actors and give its name to the poem.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThe second essential feature of the Hindu epic model is one which you have selected for especial condemnation and yet I
\nhave chosen to adhere to it in its entirety. The characters of Hindu legend are, you say, lifeless patterns of moral excellence.
\nLet me again distinguish. The greater figures of our epics are ideals, but ideals of wickedness as well as virtue and also of mixed
\ncharacters which are not precisely either vicious or virtuous. They are, that is to say, ideal presentments of character-types.
\nThis also arises from the tendency of the Hindu creative mind to look behind the actors at tendencies, inspirations, ideals. Yet
\nare these great figures, are Rama, Sita, Savitrie, merely patterns of moral excellence? I who have read their tale in the swift
\nand mighty language of Valmekie and Vyasa and thrilled with  
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their joys and their sorrows, cannot persuade myself that it is so. Surely Savitrie that strong silent heart, with her powerful and subtly-indicated personality, has both life and charm; surely Rama puts too much divine fire into all he does to be a
\ndead thing, \u2014 Sita is too gracious and sweet, too full of human lovingness and lovableness, of womanly weakness and womanly
\nstrength! Ruaru and Priyumvada are also types and ideals; love in them, such is the idea, finds not only its crowning exaltation
\nbut that perfect idea <\/i>of itself of which every existing love is a partial and not quite successful manifestation. Ideal love is a triune energy, neither a mere sensual impulse, nor mere emotional nor mere spiritual. These may exist, but they are not love. By
\nitself the sensual is only an animal need, the emotional a passing mood, the spiritual a religious aspiration which has lost its way.
\nYet all these are necessary elements of the highest passion. Sense impulse is as necessary to it as the warm earth-matter at its
\nroot to the tree, emotion as the air which consents with its life, spiritual aspiration as the light and the rain from heaven which
\nprevent it from withering. My conception being an ideal struggle between love and death, two things are needed to give it poetical
\nform, an adequate picture of love and adequate image of Death. The love pictured must be on the ideal plane, and touch therefore
\nthe farthest limit of strength in each of its three directions. The sensual must be emphasised to give it firm root and basis, the
\nemotional to impart to it life, the spiritual to prolong it into infinite permanence. And if at their limits of extension the three
\nmeet and harmonise, if they are not triple but triune, then is that love a perfect love and the picture of it a perfect picture. Such
\nat least is the conception of the poem; whether I have contrived even faintly to execute it, do you judge.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut when Hindu canons of taste, principles of epic writing and types of thought and character are assimilated there are still
\nserious difficulties in Englishing a Hindu legend. There is the danger of raising around the subject a jungle of uncouth words
\nand unfamiliar allusions impenetrable to English readers. Those who have hitherto made the attempt, have succumbed to the
\npassion for “local colour” or for a liberal peppering of Sanscrit
\n\t\t\t<\/font>
\n\t\t\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t
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\n

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\n

words all over their verses, thus forming a constant stumbling-block and a source of irritation to the reader. Only so much local colour is admissible as comes naturally and unforced by the very
\nnature of the subject; and for the introduction of a foreign word into poetry the one valid excuse is the entire absence of a fairly
\ncorresponding word or phrase in the language itself. Yet a too frequent resort to this plea shows either a laziness in invention
\nor an unseasonable learning. There are very few Sanscrit words or ideas, not of the technical kind, which do not admit of being
\napproximately conveyed in English by direct rendering or by a little management, or, at the worst, by coining a word which, if
\nnot precisely significant of the original, will create some kindred association in the mind of an English reader. A slight inexactness
\nis better than a laborious pedantry. I have therefore striven to avoid all that would be unnecessarily local and pedantic, even
\nto the extent of occasionally using a Greek expression such as Hades for the lord of the underworld. I believe such uses to
\nbe legitimate, since they bring the poem nearer home to the imagination of the reader. On the other hand, there are some
\nwords one is loth to part with. I have myself been unable or unwilling to sacrifice such Indianisms as Rishi; Naga, for the
\nsnake-gods who inhabit the nether-world; Uswuttha, for the sacred fig-tree; chompuc (but this has been made familiar by
\nShelley’s exquisite lyric); coil or Kokil, for the Indian cuckoo; and names like Dhurma (Law, Religion, Rule of Nature) and
\nCritanta, the ender, for Yama, the Indian Hades. These, I think, are not more than a fairly patient reader may bear with. Mythological allusions, the indispensable setting of a Hindu legend, have been introduced sparingly, and all but one or two will
\nexplain themselves to a reader of sympathetic intelligence and some experience in poetry.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tYet are they, in some number, indispensable. The surroundings and epic machinery must necessarily be the ordinary Hindu
\nsurroundings and machinery. Properly treated, I do not think these are wanting in power and beauty of poetic suggestion.
\nRuaru, the grandson of Bhrigou, takes us back to the very beginnings of Aryan civilisation when our race dwelt and warred
\n   <\/font> <\/p>\n

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\n

and sang within the frontier of the five rivers, Iravatie, Chundrobhaga, Shotodrou, Bitosta and Bipasha, and our Bengal was but
\na mother of wild beasts, clothed in the sombre mystery of virgin forests and gigantic rivers and with no human inhabitants
\nsave a few savage tribes, the scattered beginnings of nations. Accordingly the story is set in times when earth was yet new
\nto her children, and the race was being created by princes like Pururavas and patriarchal sages or Rishies like Bhrigou,
\nBrihuspati, Gautama. The Rishi was in that age the head of the human world. He was at once sage, poet, priest, scientist,
\nprophet, educator, scholar and legislator. He composed a song, and it became one of the sacred hymns of the people; he emerged
\nfrom rapt communion with God to utter some puissant sentence, which in after ages became the germ of mighty philosophies;
\nhe conducted a sacrifice, and kings and peoples rose on its seven flaming tongues to wealth and greatness; he formulated
\nan observant aphorism, and it was made the foundation of some future science, ethical, practical or physical; he gave a
\ndecision in a dispute and his verdict was seed of a great code or legislative theory. In Himalayan forests or by the confluence
\nof great rivers he lived as the centre of a patriarchal family whose link was thought-interchange and not blood-relationship,
\nbright-eyed children of sages, heroic striplings, earnest pursuers of knowledge, destined to become themselves great Rishies or
\nrenowned leaders of thought and action. He himself was the master of all learning and all arts and all sciences. The Rishies
\nwon their knowledge by meditation working through inspiration to intuition. Austere concentration of the faculties stilled
\nthe waywardness of the reason and set free for its work the inner, unerring vision which is above reason, as reason is itself
\nabove sight; this again worked by intuitive flashes, one inspired stroke of insight quivering out close upon the other, till the
\nwhole formed a logical chain; yet a logic not coldly thought out nor the logic of argument but the logic of continuous and
\nconsistent inspiration. Those who sought the Eternal through physical austerities, such as the dwelling between five fires (one
\nfire on each side and the noonday sun overhead) or lying for  
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\ndays on a bed of swordpoints, or Yoga processes based on an advanced physical science, belonged to a later day. The Rishies
\nwere inspired thinkers, not working through deductive reason or any physical process of sense-subdual. The energy of their
\npersonalities was colossal; wrestling in fierce meditation with God, they had become masters of incalculable spiritual energies,
\nso that their anger could blast peoples and even the world was in danger when they opened their lips to utter a curse. This energy
\nwas by the principle of heredity transmitted, at least in the form of a latent and educable force, to their offspring. Afterwards as
\nthe vigour of the race exhausted itself, the inner fire dwindled and waned. But at first even the unborn child was divine. When
\nChyavan was in the womb, a Titan to whom his mother Puloma had been betrothed before she was given to Bhrigou, attempted
\nto carry off his lost love in the absence of the Rishi. It is told that the child in the womb felt the affront and issued from his mother
\nburning with such a fire of inherited divinity that the Titan ravisher fell blasted by the wrath of an infant. For the Rishies were
\nnot passionless. They were prone to anger and swift to love. In their pride of life and genius they indulged their yearnings
\nfor beauty, wedding the daughters of Titans or mingling with nymphs of Paradise in the august solitudes of hills and forests.
\nFrom these were born those ancient and sacred clans of a prehistoric antiquity, Barghoves, Barhaspaths, Gautamas, Kasyapas,
\ninto which the descendants of the Aryan are to this day divided. Thus has India deified the great men who gave her civilisation.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tOn earth the Rishies, in heaven the Gods. These were great and shining beings who preserved the established cosmos against
\nthe Asuras, or Titans, spirits of disorder between whom and the Hindu Olympians there was ever warfare. Yet their hostility
\ndid not preclude occasional unions. Sachi herself, the Queen of Heaven, was a Titaness, daughter of the Asura, Puloman;
\nYayati, ally of the Gods, took to himself a Daitya maiden Surmishtha, child of imperial Vrishopurvan (for the Asuras or
\nDaityas, on the [terrestrial]3<\/sup> plane, signified the adversaries of<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t3 MS (typed)
\n<\/i>territorial
\n  
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\n

Aryan civilisation), and Bhrigou’s wife, Puloma, was of the Titan blood. Chief of the Gods were Indra, King and Thunderer, who
\ncame down when men sacrificed and drank the Soma wine of the offering; Vaiou, the Wind; Agni, who is Hutaashon, devourer of
\nthe sacrifice, the spiritual energy of Fire; Varouna, the prince of the seas; Critanta, Death, the ender, who was called also Yama
\n(Government) or Dhurma (Law) because from him are all order and stability, whether material or moral. And there were subtler
\npresences; Cama, also named Modon or Monmuth, the God of desire, who rode on the parrot and carried five flowery arrows
\nand a bow-string of linked honey-bees; his wife, Ruthie, the golden-limbed spirit of delight; Saruswatie, the Hindu Muse,
\nwho is also Vach or Word, the primal goddess \u2014 she is the unexpressed idea of existence which by her expression takes visible
\nform and being; for the word is prior to and more real, because more spiritual, than the thing it expresses; she is the daughter
\nof Brahma and has inherited the creative power of her father, the wife of Vishnou and shares the preservative energy of her
\nhusband; Vasuqie, also, and Seshanaga, the great serpent with his hosts, whose name means finiteness and who represents Time
\nand Space; he upholds the world on his hundred colossal hoods and is the couch of the Supreme who is Existence. There were
\nalso the angels who were a little less than the Gods; Yukshas, the Faery attendants of Kuvere, lord of wealth, who protect
\nhoards and treasures and dwell in Ullaca, the city of beauty,
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

the hills of mist
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tGolden, the dwelling place of Faery kings,
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAnd mansions by unearthly moonlight
\nkissed: \u2014
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tFor one dwells there whose brow with the young moon
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tLightens as with a
\nmarvellous amethyst \u2014
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tUllaca, city of beauty, where no thought enters but that of love, no age but that of youth, no season but that of flowers.
\nThen there are the Gundhurvas, beautiful, brave and melodious beings, the artists, musicians, poets and shining warriors
\nof heaven; Kinnaries, Centauresses of sky and hill with voices of Siren melody; Opsaras, sky-nymphs, children of Ocean, who
\n  
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\ndwell in Heaven, its songstresses and daughters of joy, and who often mingle in love with mortals. Nor must we forget our own
\nmother, Ganges, the triple and mystic river, who is Mundaqinie, Ganges of the Gods, in heaven, Bhagirathie or Jahnavie, Ganges
\nof men, on earth, and Boithorinie or coiling Bhogavatie, Ganges of the dead, in Patala, the grey under-world and kingdom of
\nserpents, and in the sombre dominions of Yama. Saraswatie, namesake and shadow of the Muse, preceded her in her sacredness; but the banks of those once pure waters have long passed to the barbarian and been denounced as unclean and uninhabitable
\nto our race, while the deity has passed to that other mysterious underground stream which joins Ganges and Yamouna in their
\ntryst at Proyaga.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAre there not here sufficient features of poetical promise,
\nsufficient materials of beauty for the artist to weave into immortal visions? I would gladly think that there are, that I am not
\ncheating myself with delusions when I seem to find in this yet untrodden path,
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tvia . . . qua me quoque possim<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tTollere humo victorque virum volitare per ora.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tGranted, you will say, but still Quorsum haec putida tendunt? <\/i>or how does it explain the dedication to me of a style of
\nwork at entire variance with my own tastes and preferences? But the value of a gift depends on the spirit of the giver rather
\nthan on its own suitability to the recipient. Will you accept this poem as part-payment of a deep intellectual debt I have
\nbeen long owing to you? Unknown to yourself, you taught and encouraged me from my childhood to be a poet. From your
\nsun my farthing rush-light was kindled, and it was in your path that I long strove to guide my uncertain and faltering footsteps.
\nIf I have now in the inevitable development of an independent temperament in independent surroundings departed from your
\nguidance and entered into a path, perhaps thornier and more rugged, but my own, it does not lessen the obligation of that
\nfirst light and example. It is my hope that in the enduring fame which your calmer and more luminous genius must one day
\n   <\/font> <\/p>\n

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\n

bring you, on a distant verge of the skies and lower plane of planetary existence, some ray of my name may survive and it
\nbe thought no injury to your memory that the first considerable effort of my powers was dedicated to you.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

To His Uncle <\/a> <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

c\/o Rao Bahadur K.B. Jadhava
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

Near Municipal Office
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Baroda
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

15th<\/sup> August 1902
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

My dear Boromama,<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI am sorry to hear from Sarojini that Mejdada has stopped
\nsending mother’s allowance and threatens to make the stoppage permanent unless you can improvise a companion to the Goddess of Purulia. This is very characteristic of Mejdada; it may even be described in one word as Manomaniac. Of course he
\nthinks he is stopping your pension and that this will either bring you to reason or effectually punish you. But the main question
\nis What is to be done now? Of course I can send Rs 40 now and so long as I am alone it does not matter very much, but it will be
\nrather a pull when Mrinalini comes back to Baroda. However even that could be managed well enough with some self-denial
\nand an effective household management. But there is a tale of woe behind.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tSarojini suggests that I might bring her or have her brought to Baroda with my wife. I should have no objection, but is
\nthat feasible? In the first place will she agree to come to the other end of the world like that? And if she does, will not the
\nviolent change and the shock of utterly unfamiliar surroundings, strange faces and an unintelligible tongue or rather two or three
\nunintelligible tongues, have a prejudicial effect upon her mind? Sarojini and my wife found it intolerable enough to live under
\nsuch circumstances for a long time; how would mother stand it? This is what I am most afraid of. Men may cut themselves off
\nfrom home and everything else and make their own atmosphere  
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\nin strange places, but it is not easy for women and I am afraid it would be quite impossible for a woman in her mental condition.
\nApart from these objections it might be managed. Of course I could not give her a separate house, but she might be assured
\nthat whenever a Boro Bou came, she should have one to receive her in; I daresay that would satisfy her. In case however it does
\nnot or the experiment should be judged too risky, I must go on sending Rs 40 as long as I can.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBut there comes the tale of woe I have spoken of. We have now had three years of scarcity, the first of them being a severe
\nfamine. The treasury of the State is well nigh exhausted \u2014 a miserable 30 or 40 lakhs is all that remains, and in spite of
\nconsiderable severity and even cruelty in collection the revenues of the last year amount simply to the tail of the dog without the
\ndog himself. This year there was no rain in Baroda till the first crop withered; after July 5th about 9 inches fell, just sufficient to
\n.. encourage the cultivators to sow again. Now for want of more
\nrain the second crop is withering away into nothingness. The high wind which has prevented rain still continues, and though
\nthere is a vague hope of a downpour after the l5th, one cannot ..
\nset much store by it. Now in case there should be a severe famine this year, what may happen is something like this; either we shall
\nall be put on half pay for the next twelve months, \u2014 in other words I who can only just manage to live on Rs 360 will have
\nto do it on Rs 180 \u2014 or the pay will be cut down permanently (or at least for some years) by 25 per cent, in which case I shall
\nrejoice upon Rs 270; or thirdly (and this may Heaven forbid) we shall get our full pay till December and after that live on the
\nmunificent amount of nothing a month. In any case it will be impossible to bring mother or even Mrinalini to Baroda. And
\nthere is worse behind. The Ajwa reservoir after four years of drought is nearly exhausted. The just-drinkable-if-boiled water
\nin it will last for about a month; the nondrinkable for still two months more. This means that if there is no rain, there will be
\na furious epidemic of cholera before two months are out and after three months this city, to say nothing of other parts of the
\nRaj, will be depopulated by a water famine. Of course the old  
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\n

disused wells may be filled up, but that again means cholera in excelsis. The only resource will be for the whole State to go and
\ncamp out on the banks of the Narmada and the Mahi.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOf course if I get half pay I shall send Rs 80 to Bengal, hand
\nover Rs 90 as my contribution to the expenses to Khaserao and keep the remaining 10 for emergencies; but supposing the
\nthird course suggested should be pursued? I shall then have to take a third class ticket to Calcutta and solicit an 150 Rs place
\nin Girish Bose’s or Mesho’s College \u2014 if Lord Curzon has not abolished both of them by that time. Of course I could sponge
\nupon my father-in-law in Assam, becoming a ghor jamai <\/i>for the time being, but then who would send money to Deoghur
\nand Benares? To such a pass have an allwise Providence and the blessings of British rule brought us! However let us all hope that
\nit will rain.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPlease let me know whether Mejdada has sent any money
\nby the time this reaches you. If he has not, I suppose I must put my shoulder to the burden. And by the way if you have
\nfound my MS of verse translations from Sanscrit, you might send it to me “by return of post”. The Seeker had better remain
\nwith you instead of casting itself on the perilous waters of the Post-Office.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMy health has not been very good recently; that is to say, although I have no recognised doctor’s illness, I have developed
\na new disease of my own, or rather a variation of Madhavrao’s special brand of nervous debility. I shall patent mine as A.G’s
\nprivate and particular. Its chief symptom is a ghastly inability to do any serious work; two hours’ work induces a feverish
\nexhaustion and a burning sensation all over the body as well as a pain in the back. I am then useless for the rest of the day.
\nSo for some time past I have had to break up the little work I have done into half an hour here, half an hour there and half an
\nhour nowhere. The funny thing is that I keep up a very decent appetite and am equal to any amount of physical exercise that
\nmay be demanded of me. In fact if I take care to do nothing but kasrat and croquet and walking and rushing about, I keep in a
\ngrand state of health, \u2014 but an hour’s work turns me again into  
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\nan invalid. This is an extremely awkward state of things and if you know any homoeopathic drug which will remove it, I will
\nshut my eyes and swallow it.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tOf course under such circumstances I find it difficult to write
\nletters. I do not know how many letters to Sarojini & my wife I have begun, written two lines and left. The other day, however,
\nthere was a promising sign. I began to write a letter to you and actually managed to finish one side and a half. This has encouraged me to try again and I do believe I shall finish this letter today \u2014 the second day of writing.4<\/sup> The improvement, which is part of
\na general abatement of my symptoms, I attribute to a fortnight’s determined and cynical laziness. During this time I have been to
\nAhmedabad with our cricket eleven and watched them get a jolly good beating; which happy result we celebrated by a gorgeous
\ndinner at the refreshment room. I believe the waiters must have thought us a party of famine-stricken labourers, dressed up in
\nstolen clothes, perhaps the spoils of massacred famine officers. There were six of us and they brought us a dozen plentiful
\ncourses; we ate them all and asked for more. As for the bread we consumed \u2014 well, they brought us at first a huge toast-rack
\nwith about 20 large pieces of toast. After three minutes there was nothing left except the rack itself; they repeated the allowance
\nwith a similar result. Then they gave up the toast as a bad job, and brought in two great plates each with a mountain of bread
\non it as large as Nandanpahad. After a short while we were howling for more. This time there was a wild-eyed consultation
\nof waiters and after some minutes they reappeared with large trays of bread carried in both hands. This time they conquered.
\nThey do charge high prices at the refreshment rooms but I don’t think they got much profit out of us that time. Since then I have
\nbeen once on a picnic to Ajwa with the District Magistrate and Collector of Baroda, the second Judge of the High Court and a
\nstill more important and solemn personage whom you may have met under the name of
\n\t\t\tMr.. Anandrao Jadhav. A second picnic
\nwas afterwards organized in which some dozen rowdies, not to<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t4 I didn’t after all.
\n  
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\n

say Hooligans, of our club \u2014 the worst among them, I regret to say, was the father of a large family and a trusted officer of H.H.
\nthe Maharajah Gaekwar, \u2014 went down to Ajwa and behaved in such a manner that it is a wonder we were not arrested and
\nlocked up. On the way my horse broke down and so four of us had to get down and walk three miles in the heat. At the first
\nvillage we met a cart coming back from Ajwa and in spite of the carters’ protests seized it, turned the bullocks round and started
\nthem back \u2014 of course with ourselves in the cart. The bullocks at first thought they were going to do the journey at their usual
\ncomfortable two miles an hour, but we convinced them of their error with the ends of our umbrellas and they ran. I don’t believe
\nbullocks have ever run so fast since the world began. The way the cart jolted, was a wonder; I know the internal arrangements
\nof my stomach were turned upside down at least 300 times a minute. When we got to Ajwa we had to wait an hour for dinner;
\nas a result I was again able to eat ten times my usual allowance. As for the behaviour of those trusted pillars of the Baroda Raj at
\nAjwa, a veil had better be drawn over it; I believe I was the only quiet and decent person in the company. On the way home the
\ncarriage in which my part of the company installed itself, was the scene of a remarkable tussle in which three of the occupants and
\nan attendant cavalier attempted to bind the driver, (the father of a large family aforesaid) with a horse-rope. As we had been
\nordered to do this by the Collector of Baroda, I thought I might join in the attempt with a safe conscience. Paterfamilias threw
\nthe reins to Providence and fought \u2014 I will say it to his credit \u2014 like a Trojan. He scratched me, he bit one of my coadjutors,
\nin both cases drawing blood, he whipped furiously the horse of the assistant cavalier, and when Madhavrao came to his
\nassistance, he rewarded the benevolent intention by whipping at Madhavrao’s camel! It was not till we reached the village,
\nafter a six-miles conflict, and got him out of the carriage that he submitted to the operation. The wonder was that our carriage
\ndid not get upset; indeed, the mare stopped several times in order to express her entire disgust at the improper and turbulent
\ncharacter of these proceedings. For the greater part of the way
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\t\t\t<\/span><\/p>\n

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\n

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\n

home she was brooding indignantly over the memory of it and
\nonce her feelings so much overcame her that she tried to upset us over the edge of the road, which would have given us a comfortable little fall of three feet. Fortunately she was relieved by this little demonstration and her temper improved wonderfully
\nafter it. Finally last night I helped to kidnap Dr.. Cooper, the Health Officer of the State, and make him give us a big dinner
\nat the Station with a bottle and a half of sherry to wash it down. The Doctor got so merry over the sherry of which he drank at
\nleast two thirds himself, that he ordered a special-class <\/i>dinner for the whole company next Saturday. I don’t know what Mrs
\n.. Cooper said to him when he got home. All this has had a most
\nbeneficial effect upon my health, as the writing of so long a letter shows.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI suppose you have got Anandrao’s letter; you ought to value it, for the time he took to write it is, I believe, unequalled in the
\nhistory of epistolary creation. The writing of it occupied three weeks, fair-copying it another fortnight, writing the address
\nseven days and posting it three days more. You will see from it that there is no need to be anxious about his stomach: it righted
\nitself the moment he got into the train at Deoghur Station. In fact he was quite lively and warlike on the way home. At Jabalpur
\nwe were unwise enough not to spread out our bedding on the seats and when we got in again, some upcountry scoundrels had
\nboned Anandrao’s berth. After some heated discussion I occupied half of it and put Anandrao on mine. Some Mahomedans,
\nquite inoffensive people, sat at the edge of this, but Anandrao chose to confound them with the intruders and declared war on
\nthem. The style of war he adopted was a most characteristically Maratha style. He pretended to go to sleep and began kicking
\nthe Mahomedans, in his “sleep” of course, having specially gone to bed with his boots on for the purpose. I had at last to call
\nhim off and put him on my half-berth. Here, his legs being the other way, he could not kick; so he spent the night butting the
\nupcountryman with his head; next day he boasted triumphantly to me that he had conquered a foot and half of territory from the
\nintruder by his brilliant plan of campaign. When the Boers rise  
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 143<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n

once more against England, I think we shall have to send them Anandrao as an useful assistant to Generals Botha and Delarey.
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tNo rain as yet, and it is the 15th of August. My thirtieth ..
\nbirthday, by English computation! How old we are all getting!
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tYour affectionate nephew
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tAurobind Ghose.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tP.S. There is a wonderful story travelling about Baroda, a
\nstory straight out of Fairyland, that I have received Rs 90 promotion. Everybody seems to know all about it except
\nmyself. The story goes that a certain officer rejoicing in the name of Damn-you-bhai wanted promotion, so the Maharaja
\ngave him Rs 50. He then proceeded to remark that as this would give Damn-you-bhai an undue seniority over
\n\t\t\tMr.. Would-you-ah! and Mr.. Manoeu(vre)bhai, the said Would-you-ah and Manoeu(vre)bhai must also get Rs 50 each, and “as
\n\t\t\tMr.. Ghose
\nhas done good work for me, I give him Rs 90”. The beautiful logical connection of the last bit with what goes before, dragging
\n\t\t\tMr.. Ghose in from nowhere & everywhere, is so like the Maharaja that the story may possibly be true. If so, it is very
\nsatisfactory, as my pay will now be \u2014 Famine permitting \u2014 Rs 450 a month. It is not quite so good as Mejdada’s job, but it
\nwill serve. Rs 250 promotion after ten years’ service does not look very much, but it is better than nothing. At that rate I shall
\nget Rs 700 in 1912 and be drawing about Rs 1000 when I am ready to retire from Baroda either to Bengal or a better world.
\nGlory Halleluja!<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tGive my love to Sarojini and tell her I shall write to her \u2014
\nif I can. Don’t forget to send the MS of translations. I want to typewrite and send to England.
\n  
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 144<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n
\n To His Wife <\/a> <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n  <\/p>\n

\n \tc\/o K.B. Jadhav Esq
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\nNear Municipal Office
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n Baroda
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n 20th<\/sup> August 1902
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\nDearest Mrinalini,<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI have not written to you for a long time because I have not
\nbeen in very good health and had not the energy to write. I went out of Baroda for a few days to see whether change and rest
\nwould set me up, and your telegram came when I was not here. I feel much better now, and I suppose there was nothing really
\nthe matter with me except overwork. I am sorry I made you so anxious; there was no real cause to be so, for you know I never
\nget seriously <\/i>ill. Only when I feel out of sorts, I find writing letters almost impossible.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tThe Maharajah has given me Rs 90 promotion \u2014 this will raise my pay to Rs 450. In the order he has made me a lot
\nof compliments about my powers, talent, capacity, usefulness etcetera, but also made a remark on my want of regularity and
\npunctual habits. Besides he shows his intention of taking the value of the Rs 90 out of me by burdening me with overwork,
\nso I don’t feel very grateful to him. He says that if convenient, my services can be utilized in the College. But I don’t see how
\nit will be convenient, just now, at least; for it is nearly the end of the term. Even if I go to the College, he has asked the Dewan
\nto use me for writing Annual Reports etc. I suppose this means that he does not want me to get my vacations. However, let us
\nsee what happens.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tIf I join the College now and am allowed the three months’
\nvacation, I shall of course go to Bengal and to Assam for a short visit. I am afraid it will be impossible for you to come to Baroda
\njust now. There has been no rain here for a month, except a short shower early this morning. The wells are all nearly dried up; the
\nwater of the Ajwa reservoir which supplies Baroda is very low and must be quite used up by next November; the crops in the
\n   <\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 145<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n

fields are all parched and withering. This means that we shall not only have famine; but there will be no water for bathing
\nand washing up, or even, perhaps for drinking. Besides if there is famine, it is practically sure that all the officers will be put on
\nhalf-pay. We are hoping, rather than expecting, that there may be good rain before the end of August. But the signs are against
\nit, and if it comes, it will only remove the water difficulty or put it off for a few months. For you to come to Baroda and endure
\nall the troubles & sufferings of such a state of things is out of the question. You must decide for yourself whether you will stay
\nwith your father or at Deoghur. You may as well stay in Assam till October, and then if I can go to Bengal, I will take you to
\nDeoghur where you can stop for the winter at least. If I cannot come then, I will, if you like, try and make some arrangement
\nfor you to be taken there.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI am glad your father will be able to send me a cook when
\nyou come. I have got a Maratha cook, but he can prepare nothing properly except meat dishes. I don’t know how to get over
\nthe difficulty about the jhi<\/i>. Sarojini wrote something about a Mahomedan
\nayah<\/i>, but that would never do. After so recently
\nbeing readmitted to Hindu society, I cannot risk it; it is all very well for Khaserao & others whose social position is so strong
\nthat they may do almost anything they like. As soon as I see any prospect of being able to get you here, I shall try my best to
\narrange about a maid-servant. It is no use doing it now.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI hope you will be able to read and understand this letter; if
\nyou can’t, I hope it will make you more anxious to learn English than you have been up to now. I could not manage to write
\na Bengali letter just now \u2014 so I thought I had better write in English rather than put off writing.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tDo not be too much disappointed by the delay in coming to Baroda; it cannot be avoided. I should like you to spend some
\ntime in Deoghur, if you do not mind, Assam somehow seems terribly far off; and besides, I should like you to form a closer
\nintimacy with my relatives, at least those among them whom I especially love.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tYour loving husband  
\n<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 146<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n
\nTo His Father-in-Law <\/a> <\/b>
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t[1] <\/p>\n

\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tCalcutta
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tJune 8th<\/sup> 1906.
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMy dear father-in-law,<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI could not come over to Shillong in May, because my stay
\nin Eastern Bengal was unexpectedly long. It was nearly the end of May before I could return to Calcutta, so that my programme
\nwas necessarily changed. I return to Baroda today. I have asked for leave from the 12th, but I do not know whether it will be
\n.. sanctioned so soon. In any case I shall be back by the end of the
\nmonth. If you are anxious to send Mrinalini down, I have no objection whatever. I have no doubt my aunt will gladly put her
\nup until I can return from Baroda and make my arrangements.<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI am afraid I shall never be good for much in the way of domestic virtues. I have tried, very ineffectively, to do some part of my duty as a son, a brother and a husband, but there is something
\ntoo strong in me which forces me to subordinate everything else to it. Of course that is no excuse for my culpability in not writing
\nletters, \u2014 a fault I am afraid I shall always be quicker to admit than to reform. I can easily understand that to others it may
\nseem to spring from a lack of the most ordinary affection. It was not so in the case of my father from whom I seem to inherit the
\ndefect. In all my fourteen years in England I hardly got a dozen letters from him, and yet I cannot doubt his affection for me,
\nsince it was the false report of my death which killed him. I fear you must take me as I am with all my imperfections on my head.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tBarin has again fallen ill, and I have asked him to go out to some healthier place for a short visit. I was thinking he might
\ngo to Waltair, but he has set his heart on going to Shillong \u2014 I don’t quite know why, unless it is to see a quite new place and at
\nthe same time make acquaintance with his sister-in-law’s family. If he goes, I am sure you will take good care of him for the short
\ntime he may be there. You will find him, I am afraid, rather wilful & erratic,
\n\u2014 the family failing. He is especially fond of
\n   <\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 147<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n

knocking about by himself in a spasmodic and irregular fashion when he ought to be sitting at home and nursing his delicate
\nhealth, but I have learnt not to interfere with him in this respect; if checked, he is likely to go off at a tangent & makes things
\nworse. He has, however, an immense amount of vitality which allows him to play these tricks with impunity in a good climate,
\nand I think a short stay at Shillong ought to give him another lease of health.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Your affectionate
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

son-in-law
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

Aurobindo Ghose
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t[2] <\/p>\n

\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPondicherry
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t19 February 1919
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tMy dear father-in-law,<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tI have not written to you with regard to this fatal event in
\nboth our lives; words are useless in face of the feelings it has caused, if even they can ever express our deepest emotions. God
\nhas seen good to lay upon me the one sorrow that could still touch me to the centre. He knows better than ourselves what is
\nbest for each of us, and now that the first sense of the irreparable has passed, I can bow with submission to His divine purpose.
\nThe physical tie between us is, as you say, severed; but the tie of affection subsists for me. Where I have once loved, I do not
\ncease from loving. Besides she who was the cause of it, still is near though not visible to our physical vision.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tIt is needless to say much about the matters of which you write in your letter. I approve of everything that you propose.
\nWhatever Mrinalini would have desired, should be done, and I have no doubt this is what she would have approved of. I
\nconsent to the chudis being kept by her mother; but I should be glad if you would send me two or three of her books, especially
\nif there are any in which her name is written. I have only of her her letters and a photograph.
\n\t\t\t<\/font> <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tAurobindo<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\tPage \u2013 148<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t <\/p>\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t\tSri Aurobindo’s letter to his father-in-law, 19 February 1919<\/font><\/p>\n

\n

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t<\/font><\/span><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part Two   Letters of Historical Interest Section One   Letters on Personal, Practical and Political Matters 1890 \u00ad 1926 Family Letters, 1890 \u00ad 1919…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[42],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1976","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-36-autobiographical-notes","wpcat-42-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1976","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1976"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1976\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9579,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1976\/revisions\/9579"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1976"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1976"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1976"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}