September 13, 1934
Very grateful. I meditated as usual before pranam. But after, I had a lot of correspondence etc. to attend to and am going to quote the following from a long letter of a Professor whom Saratchandra[1] has asked to convey to me the following (he is very unwell, so can’t write):
“Sarat Chandra has requested me to write to you his opinion about your novel ‘Ranger Paras’. Again and again he was telling: ‘It is a wonderful book from the point of view of literary language, idea and also as a novel. I urge all aspiring authors to study this book carefully and with patience. You will be benefited and will learn a lot about many things from this book. This book is much superior than those books which are generally published nowadays in Bengali literature and receive praises. This is no doubt a wonderful piece of literature.’
“He (Sarat Chandra) has no doubt that this book will get a special place in modem Bengali literature. On the whole the book is a masterly creation.”
This is no formal praise as you can see. So can’t help a little unyogic joy to hear such lavish encomium bestowed on my novel by the greatest novelist of Bengal (of India that is) and one of the greatest novelist of all ages. Your blessings!
It is indeed very high praise, as high as any man can give to another’s work and coming from Saratchandra it would exalt anybody. Congratulations!
* * *
September 19, 1934
The Mother understood that it was for the difficulty of concentration that you wanted to see her, but that is not a thing which can be dealt with in five minutes and she had no time before one o’clock today, so she fixed tomorrow. I am certainly not helping you only with letters, but doing it whenever I get some time for concentration and I notice that when I can do it with sufficient energy and at some length there is a response. But this habit of sadness of yours is very much in the way — you ought to take it by the neck and throw it out of you altogether. How on earth can there be a steady progress when at every second moment you are telling yourself or letting something tell you that there is no hope for you in Yoga. A steady will and perseverance in face of all difficulties is surely a proper condition for success — even if you think peace and cheerfulness are obstacles. What a strange idea! And it is not easy to have a steady will and perseverance if you are always listening to these voices of discouragement and even taking that as the best condition for getting the Divine! You speak of the impossibility of being cheerful when you don’t immediately get what you want, but what then do you make of Ramakrishna’s story of Narad and the yogi ascetic and the Vaishnava bhakta — which I suppose you know? Surely Ramakrishna knew something about Yoga and what was possible there.
You can send our blessings to Miss [Tyabji?]. I suppose she is not the one I used to see in Baroda — at a distance, for I had no personal acquaintance with her. Her father I met often and knew very well.
I don’t think the Nirvana letter will help you very much, but I will see about it. I have to make some last corrections.
* * *
September 23, 1934
To Mother
Today I have had a most vivid dream which is almost unique in a way as it was full of not only devotion but ananda from the start. It was like this: I had it just now about 3.30 p.m. I think. It is now 4.
After my midday meal I read for a while Jules Romain’s famous novel Les Hommes de Bonne Volonté and then read a little Gita and Bejoy Krishna and began to do japa of your name, but not concentration properly speaking. I did japa and prayed to you for quite an hour perhaps before I fell asleep. I dreamed this:
I was singing. Suddenly I felt a devotion and sang a song of my father’s composition which I seldom sing, curiously, as it is more a joy of vivid ananda than of aspiration and ananda I seldom feel, if at all. It runs like this
Ebār tore chinechhi Mā ār ki Shyāmā tore chhāri
Bhaber dukhah bhaber jwālā pathiye dichchi jamer bāri
which maybe translated thus:
“I have come to know Thee (O) Mother mine never more shall I let Thee part
Now is gone for ever all sorrow of the earth and shadowing afflictions dark.”
In the original the song is extremely beautiful both as a poem and as a musical composition of joy.
As I was singing my voice became so thick with ecstasy (in the dream I mean) that I could hardly sing it and was marvelling — as I could emit such deep notes from the technical point of view. It is strange that even then I was appreciating my musical technique and execution when tears were flowing fast! But it was extremely vivid! And my whole being was invaded by a sweetness and joy (not waves of any sort as I have before had without peace or joy) and love and ananda that it was difficult not to melt in gratefulness to you.
Suddenly I felt it must be told you. And you appeared and sat on my cot where I was singing. I then fell on your feet and told you all that weeping profusely. You caressed me sweetly and then I dreamed of Sri Aurobindo too (helping Rameshwar De of Chandernagore with a letter, etc. — queer! — and all sorts of confidential questions he was asking me thereanent!!) and it was most delectable and lovely. Then you said to me: “Now don’t indulge your movements of dark despair and keep your promise in the song.” It is a most cogent song, a cogent weeping and cogent advice and last though not least a most cogent joy!! N’est-ce pas? [Isn’t it?]
A very good dream and true. It is something that has happened in the vital and a very good happening.
As for Rameshwar, it is very likely that communication takes place in the vital, for there he has an aspiration and has made some progress there, not exactly Yogic, but of the preparatory kind.
* * *
[1] Sarat Chandra Chatterji (15.9.1876-16.1.1938), the famous Bengali novelist and short story writer.
