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Updated: May 13, 2025
"If you push the same argument further you can say that since God is manifested in us, our self has to be worshipped before all else; because our natural instinct claims it." "Look here, Nikhil, this is all merely dry logic. Can't you recognize that there is such a thing as feeling?" "I tell you the truth, Sandip," my husband replied.
Nikhil has been married these nine years, and all this while you have eluded me. If you do this again for another nine years, we shall never meet again." I took up the spirit of his remark as I dropped my voice to reply: "Why even then should we not meet?" "My horoscope tells me I am to die early. None of my forefathers have survived their thirtieth year. I am now twenty-seven."
Sandip Babu cried out: "See, Nikhil, how in the heart of a woman Truth takes flesh and blood. Woman knows how to be cruel: her virulence is like a blind storm. It is beautifully fearful. In man it is ugly, because it harbours in its centre the gnawing worms of reason and thought. I tell you, Nikhil, it is our women who will save the country. This is not the time for nice scruples.
"Why did you not send me word when Brother Nikhil came in?" she complained. "As he was late I thought I might as well finish my bath in the meantime. However did he manage to get through his meal so soon?" "Why, did you want him for anything?" "What is this about both of you going off to Calcutta tomorrow? All I can say is, I am not going to be left here alone.
To call it untrue is as hopeless as to expect to see better by plucking out our natural eyes." Nikhil was visibly growing excited. "I accept the truth of passion," he said, "only when I recognize the truth of restraint. By pressing what we want to see right into our eyes we only injure them: we do not see.
"You must not imagine that the contagion of your company has suddenly turned me honest; I am not the man to come back in slobbering repentance to return ill-gotten money. But..." He left his speech unfinished. After a pause he turned towards Nikhil, but said to me: "After all these days, Queen Bee, the ghost of compunction has found an entry into my hitherto untroubled conscience.
That is why when your service to the country has fallen centuries into arrears all you can think of is, to make of it an image and stretch out your hands in expectation of gratuitous favours." "We want to perform the impossible," I said. "So our country needs must be made into a god." "You mean you have no heart for possible tasks," replied Nikhil.
I remember his rendering to this day ... "No, Queen Bee, it is no use rummaging those bookshelves. Nikhil has ceased to read poetry since his marriage perhaps he has no further need for it. But I suppose 'the fever fit of poesy', as the Sanskrit has it, is about to attack me again." "I have come to give you a warning, Sandip," said my husband. "About the fever fit of poesy?"
He was only obeying his orders." Here Nikhil came in, and as he did so I left my seat with a rapid movement and went and stood near the window with my back to the room. "Nanku, the guard, has insulted Sandip Babu," said Bee to Nikhil. Nikhil seemed to be so genuinely surprised that I had to turn round and stare at him.
When we sing merely on the strength of our tunefulness, the song is belittled. Now that a full flood of music has swept over our country, let Nikhil practise his scales, while we rouse the land with our cracked voices: /* "My house cries to me: Why go out to lose your all? My life says: All that you have, fling to the winds! If we must lose our all, let us lose it: what is it worth after all?
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