What if I am unworthy of
their veneration--their feeling loses nothing of its value.
I regard these grown-up children with the same kind of affection that I
have for little children--but there is also a difference. They are more
infantile still. Little children will grow up later on, but these big
children never.
A meek and radiantly simple soul shines through their worn and wrinkled,
old bodies. Little children are merely simple, they have not the
unquestioning, unwavering devotion of these. If there be any undercurrent
along which the souls of men may have communication with one another, then
my sincere blessing will surely reach and serve them.
SHELIDAH,
_16th May_ 1893.
I walk about for an hour on the river bank, fresh and clean after my
afternoon bath. Then I get into the new jolly-boat, anchor in mid-stream,
and on a bed, spread on the planked over-stern, I lie silently there on my
back, in the darkness of the evening. Little S---- sits beside me and
chatters away, and the sky becomes more and more thickly studded with
stars.
Each day the thought recurs to me: Shall I be reborn under this
star-spangled sky? Will the peaceful rapture of such wonderful evenings
ever again be mine, on this silent Bengal river, in so secluded a corner
of the world?
Perhaps not. The scene may be changed; I may be born with a different
mind. Many such evenings may come, but they may refuse to nestle so
trustfully, so lovingly, with such complete abandon, to my breast.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70