The letters reveal Nirod's unique relationship with his guru. The exchanges are suffused with a special humour.
Sri Aurobindo : corresp.
Nirodbaran's correspondence with Sri Aurobindo began in February 1933 and continued till November 1938, when Sri Aurobindo injured his leg and Nirod became one of his attendants. The entire correspondence, which was carried on in three separate notebooks according to topics - private, medical, and literary - is presented in chronological order, revealing the unique relationship Nirod enjoyed with his guru, replete with free and frank exchanges and liberal doses of humour. Covering a wide range of topics, both serious and light-hearted, these letters reveal the infinite care Sri Aurobindo devoted to the spiritual development of his disciple.
THEME/S
What do you think now of this piece, Sir? What do you think—fine, very fine, eh? Never mind what you say, I find it damn fine!
Sir, I fully admit it. No need to bully me into assent with a damn Amen!
The revolution in rhythm is not my fault. Sometimes you allow truncations, sometimes you don't. What to do?
Revolutions of rhythm must produce new rhythms, not no rhythm at all.
In the other line ["A voice threading the dimness, faintly heard!"] is it "threading" or "threatening"?
Threading, sir—why the deuce should there be a Pondicherry squabble, however faintly heard, in this business?
July 1, 1937
[The following question was put by J regarding a poem she had begun on Buddha.]
Do you think I should change the lines? I realised that I know nothing of Buddhistic teaching except the word Nirvana. Kindly say a few words on what Buddha stood for or taught his disciples.
I don't know about the change. Buddhist teaching does not recognise any inner self or soul—there is only a stream of consciousness from moment to moment—the consciousness itself is only a bundle of associations—it is kept moving by the wheel of Karma. If the associations are untied and thrown away (they are called sanskaras), then it dissolves; the idea of self or a persistent person ceases; the stream flows no longer, the wheel stops. There is left according to some Sunya, a mysterious Nothing from which all comes; according to others a mysterious Permanent in which there is no individual existence. This is Nirvana, Buddha himself always refused to say what there was beyond cosmic existence; he spoke neither of God nor Self nor Brahman. He said there was no utility in discussing that—all that was necessary was to know the causes of this unhappy temporal existence and the way to dissolve it.
July 2, 1937
I can't quite make out the link between the stanzas, and some things do not seem logical.
Well, sir, it is quite obvious that your poem is hopelessly inconsequent. For a man of logic (?) such divagations must be a release, I suppose.165 However there is good stuff in it and I have tried to put the three meanderings right.
... It is not blank verse, Amal says, as there are rhymes—seas, centuries, memories, etc. What sort of a poem is it then? Shall I allow rhymes as they come?
Let us call it modem verse which is never anything, blank or unblank, but rhymes when it feels inclined to and doesn't when it isn't.
July 3, 1937
I am sure you won't find much inconsequence here, and you will be charmed by the subtle beauty of the poem...
Great Jehovah!
... except, perhaps, at places it may be too "toffee" for you!
The toffee is there!
S complains of a lot of weakness, buzzing in the ear, no appetite, sound in the abdomen... I am afraid we have to take an X-ray in order to see if we can do something. Just now he was complaining of burning pain.
You can have the X-ray.
July 4, 1937
...Unless our blessed nature changes, there is no help at all. But change of nature is not a question of a day. Till then suffer like this?
One can decide not to suffer. But obviously otherwise, until the nature changes, there will be trouble.
I shall write in detail about my trouble...
All right.
For J, André advised auto-haemo therapy or auto-sero therapy [blood injection into the muscle] which he says is very good for eczema and asthma.
It must be done by André, if at all. It is very fashionable now. If J consents, you can try it.
There is Rajlakshmi also with the same trouble, so if you allow, we may try André's treatment.
I don't think.
July 5, 1937
As for J's case, you seem to be much behind time, Sir! You don't favour these new discoveries!
How is that? About the blood injection juggle? I told you it was fashionable and you could fash along with it if you liked or rather if J liked—provided André did it.
S—no relief! We gave him some alkali tablets.
There is a blood curdling letter from S. If it is to be taken as accurate, the whole affair must be nervous, Mother says—She asks if you have tried charcoal tablets with him.
July 6, 1937
You said that it was fashionable, but hinted that you don't like the fashion: "If you liked or rather if J liked, if at all—don't they mean that?
Nonsense, sir. Where on earth did I hint anything? Where did I write that? I said it must be done by André if at all—which had to do with the person who was to do it, not with anything else. For the rest I said if J consents, you can try it. Where the hell in that simple phrase is there anything about either my disliking or your liking or anything else that you have put into it? Really now!
For S, this time we hadn't tried charcoal, but yesterday we began it and are continuing it. Yes, the letter is blood curdling and his symptoms too, if they are true... God knows how to cure him.
If he does, send him a telephone!
I am almost sure you will howl this time, seeing my poem. But I can't help it.
I won't howl, but only sigh.
By the way, I am reading Harin's lyrics. But I find that his influence does not suit me. My poems become, according to you, sentimental, romantic; while when I read Amal's poems, there come in unconsciously some lines high and lofty and you smile and say "Aha, ha! This fellow has done something!" How is this? Is there some affinity as far as our Inspiration goes? Amal seems to think so, do you?
Certainly, your real inspiration is nearer Amal's than Harin's—the inspiration that makes you write strong and original things. Under H's influence you seem to become secondhand and reminiscent of past poetry. There is however a lyric vein of another kind which came out in your dream-poems—it is that that sometimes tries to come out in your lyrics—but it is not like Harin's.
July 7, 1937
Do you think then I should stop reading Harin and read more of Amal?
No, I don't suggest that.
What about Arjava's source? Do we have any affinity?
Maybe. His poetry is very fine and powerful.
Guru, C writes that his anti-Mohammedan spirit leads him to violent political speeches and talks. Is it yogic or safe?
Neither. Especially as there is now Muslim Raj in Bengal.
July 8, 1937
S's pain is now setting into a definite character: acme going down before food and then complete relief by food; then after 2 or 3 hours it resumes. These are, I fear, more ulcer pains, but X-ray revealed no ulcer...
Before food? that seems queer. I don't see how it can be ulcers, if nothing was shown. More likely nerves.
My boil seems to have subsided, but the blessed legs are aching terribly: can't walk after my athletic exercises at this old age, Sir. System won't bear it, it seems. Give some embrocation, please.
You have been doing Olympic sports? What an idea!
July 9, 1937
This boil paining all the time. Please do something, otherwise I can't do anything.
Why so boiled by a boil?
I am simply formenting it 3 or 4 times a day. Anything else?
I suppose there is nothing else to do.
I suppose these physical impurities are due to the vital, what?
Eventually, yes.
You know how my vital is. You must have scented it from up there! Still you want us to write [5.7.37].
It is you who proposed writing and I thought it better to let the pen draw something out.
Otherwise you won't act and will let us go on suffering. Divine Law, I suppose, what?
My dear Sir, I suffer the Divine Law myself—damned slow affair.
... I have now no push at all for sadhana; vital is peaceless, restless and unhappy. Can't concentrate at all. Life is dull and deathlike in consequence!
Well, what can you expect if you go on yielding either within or without to temptation like that? It sets you at strife with your own mind and higher vital, to say nothing of the psychic.
... Darshan is approaching and I can't remain in this condition and come to you with a glum face, to see you glum too.
I won't be glum—I shall receive you with a cheerful grunt.
I kept myself steady for a couple of months, why the devil not one month more? You will say—a usual feature in Yoga. That is no comfort to me. I'm getting discouraged.
Rubbish! Be a spider.
... It's all an old story, Sir, and it will repeat itself till—?
Till your vital physical consents to its being kicked out—which may be, if not tomorrow, day after tomorrow if it chooses.
July 11, 1937
Here is Dilipda's letter. Please solve the duel between the homeopath and the surgeon. He looks up to you for advice...
What's this rash suggestion in the letter about ear? Surely even a specialist wouldn't perforate the inside of the ear? Besides Dilip insists on his nose.
But who am I to decide between the two mighty opposites—hotneopathic stalwarts (bigots is an unpleasant word) and allopathic stalwarts? The only safe course for a prudent layman is to shake his head wisely and murmur "There is much to be said on both sides of the matter." But it seems to me that the thing is already done—he has started with the allopathic treatment and will have to go through to the end.
I can't say much about the pumping and washing of the ear. Do you want him to undergo it?
Pumping and washing sounds very Hathayogic. Harmless therefore let us hope.
This B. Babu has some cheek, I must say, uttering nasty things about you.
Well, it is nothing new. He has been saying nasty things about us for some years past.
But is he really gifted with some power?
I suppose he has or had some powers, but his mind seems to be rather chaotic, accepting all sorts of mental, vital and other perceptions and suggestions as the truth, without discrimination. Barin told me a lot about his wonderful (prophecy and knowing everything about everybody) powers, but I was disappointed to find it a glowing jumble of truth and error both taken as the very truth. No harm in a mixture of truth and error if one observes and goes on steadily clearing out the mixture. But otherwise—
X writes that he can't go to see K, though that was one of the motives of his going to Calcutta.
It is a pity he could not go to K.
... Why this bitterness against "Asramites"? From where has he really got this idea that we are unsympathetic towards him?
He says some of the Asramites!
On the other hand, I think, most of us have a deep and genuine feeling for him which he doesn't see because our expression is so different from worldly people's.
Yes, but X likes universal patting and patting is rare in the Asram, preaching is more usual.
You remember he said that he is a great believer in expression. Is expression the only real thing in life?
No. Expression is all right provided it is the right expression of the right thing. But it is not necessary to be always expressing and expressing.
What do you express when you come and sit like the immovable Himalayas at Darshan? Yet people feel joy, peace, etc., etc.
Of course. But X's difficulty is that he is accustomed to live outside not inside and feel sensible impacts and react to them—expression you know—The inner silent feeling of things is not much in his line.
...At any rate I don't believe that the sadhaks are in any way worse than worldly people whose affections and sympathy have blinded X. This place being small, one's defects stand out and criticisms come to one's ears and get magnified.
Yes.
Can he say that he has no enemies, no backbiters outside?
Well, outside being large, he can give them a wide berth.
I have heard it said that ordinary sadhaks—the Toms, Dicks and Harrys—who would be nowhere beside X in the outside world and who would have nothing if they did not have a shelter here—even such people criticise him.
? The quality of the sadhaks is so low? I should say there is a considerable amount of ability and capacity in the Asram. Only the standard demanded is higher than outside even in spiritual matters. There are half a dozen people here perhaps who live in the Brahman consciousness—outside they would make a big noise and be considered as great Yogis—here their condition is not known and in the Yoga it is regarded not as siddhi but only as a beginning.
They say—why, the sadhaks had nothing to sacrifice; they were beggars, and are kept so comfortably here. This is an exterior view of things, isn't it?
Sacrifice depends on the inner attitude. If one has nothing outward to sacrifice, one has always oneself to give.
A visitor once said, "Oh, how happy you all are here, so comfortably kept, no thoughts and anxieties. Life is plain sailing." When he was asked to come and stay here, he replied that he had no time!
The difficulty is that most of the sadhaks are still full of desires, so their renunciation is not a thing that becomes very perceptible. If they had the inner tyaga,166 it would create an atmosphere that people coming here would feel.
... Now I have decided to keep aloof as much as possible from tea-table and music, especially before Darshan. It may hurt X, but I can't help it.
Perhaps if he understands that it is a preparation for darshan, he may not be so hurt.
July 12, 1937
Shall I pass on your observation about K to X ("It is a pity he could not go to K.")?
What's the use—since he has to remain in Calcutta.
Yes, from the description it seems to be the nose and not the ear. But in a previous letter he spoke of the ear. Doesn't know what he is talking about? Ear-trouble, nose-trouble?
Perhaps he had both.
[The following two questions were asked by J:] Is your "Love and Death" a narrative poem?
Certainly.
Narratives then can be made or written very poetically not like a mere fact-to-fact story-telling?
But what do you mean by poetically? A fact to fact story telling can be very poetic. Poetry is poetic whether it is put in .simple language or freely adorned with images and rich phrases. The latter kind is not the only "poetic" poetry nor is necessarily the best. Homer is very direct and simple; Virgil less so but still is restrained in his diction; Keats tends always to richness; but one cannot say that Keats is poetic and Homer and Virgil are not. The rich style has this danger that it may drown the narration so that its outlines are no longer clear. This is what has happened with Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis and Lucrece; so that Shakespeare cannot be called a great narrative poet.
How did you find Monomohan Ghosh's poems on Love and Death?
I don't remember anything about them and am not sure that I have read.
S says that he feels very hungry now, especially in the evening. Only milk not enough. I fear to give him anything else at night.
But why is it so bad with him? T gets on very well with her ptosis, keeping only a few rules like not moving about for some time after meals.
July 13, 1937
I think we should replace S's loss of liver by liver-extract. It is a rather costly medicine, that's why I hesitate.
He has sent me another tragic letter.
I hear that A has much pain and can't even move about. But it shouldn't be so bad, as it is the sole.
Becharlal did not seem to think much of it—said it should be all right in 3 days.
Self: Nose boil seems to be boiling down slowly; but at noon I had a terrible headache, fever too. Feeling fed up, really!
Cellular bolshevism, probably.
July 14, 1937
What's this "cellular bolshevism", Sir?
Bolshevism of the cells rising up against the Tsar (yourself). Also the Bolsheviks carry on their propaganda by creating Communistic "cells" everywhere, in the army, industries etc., etc. You don't seem to be very up in contemporary history.
Guru, there is a whole mass of letters from dear C.
His Bengali handwriting is too much for me.
There is a tangled problem which is absolutely beyond me.
I have read his letter, but can't make head or tail out of his problem. He will have to solve it himself.
There is a clash between ethics or spirituality and worldliness, so he seeks your advice.
Anyhow he seems to me to be the most loose and impractical and disorderly fellow that ever was, leaving his papers and debts and everything fluttering about all over the world. It will be no wonder if he loses all he has.
July 15, 1937
Guru,
At last C has dared to ask for August Darshan permission Do you dare to permit him?
Mother considers it wiser for him to abstain. She says "Better not."
For S, ... I can't increase his evening meal yet. My idea is to build up gradually the diet so that the system may be accustomed and strengthened at the same time. No use upsetting the stomach, liver, etc.—what?
I suppose so. Don't understand the ways of a fallen stomach sounds too much like a fallen angel—but S is not that, (no angel, that is to say) whatever his stomach may be.
A has gall bladder trouble and I suspect congestion of right kidney too ... We have to give bile salts, moderate dose of salts ...
Mother says to be careful about salts, as they often help formation of stones.
July 16, 1937
Does Mother mean common salt? I meant mag. sulph. and soda-sulph.
No, she meant medical salts.
Mind and vital rather restless. No interest. Tried to write poetry, wouldn't come. Can't get it back. What to do? Forcibly sit down and scratch and scribble?
You can try. It might dribble back like that.
July 17, 1937
What the deuce is "Brahman consciousness" [12.7.37]? The same as cosmic consciousness? Does one come to it after the psychic and spiritual transformations?
Is it something like seeing Brahman in everybody and everywhere or what? It is not spiritual realisation, I suppose, I mean realisation of Self? You see I am a nincompoop in this business. Please perorate a little.
Eternal Jehovah! You don't even know what Brahman is! You will next be asking me what Yoga is or what life is or what body is or what mind is or what sadhana is! No, sir, I am not proposing to teach an infant class the A.B.C. of the elementary conceptions which are the basis of Yoga. There is Amal who doesn't know what consciousness is, even!
Brahman, sir, is the name given by Indian philosophy since the beginning of time to the one Reality, eternal and infinite which is the Self, the Divine, the All, the more than All, which would remain even if you and everybody and everything else in existence or imagining itself to be in existence vanished into blazes—even if this whole universe disappeared, Brahman would be safely there and nothing whatever lost. In fact, sir, you are Brahman and you are only pretending to be Nirod; when Nishikanta is translating Amal's poetry into Bengali, it is really Brahman translating Brahman's Brahman into Brahman. When Amal asks me what consciousness is, it is really Brahman asking Brahman what Brahman is! There, sir, I hope you are satisfied now.
To be less drastic and refrain from making your head reel till it goes off your shoulders, I may say that realisation of the Self is the beginning of Brahman realisation;—the Brahman consciousness—the Self in all and all in the Self etc. It is the basis of the spiritual realisation and therefore of the spiritual transformation; but one has to see it in all sorts of aspects and applications first and that I refuse to go into. If you want to know you have to read the Arya.
Is living in that consciousness an ideal condition for receiving the Supramental descent?
It is a necessary condition.
I heard that no one here was prepared for this Supra-mental descent?
Of course not, this realisation of the Self as all and the Divine as all is only the first step.
What's the next step?
The next step is to get into. contact with the higher planes above spiritual mind—for as soon as one gets into the spiritual Mind or Higher Mind, this realisation is possible.
Now the big question is: Is the realisation of the Self a state of perpetual peace, joy and bliss?
If it is thoroughly established, it is one of internal peace, freedom, wideness, in the inner being.
Is it a state surpassing all struggles, dualities and depressions?
All these things you mention become incidents in the external being, on the surface, but the inner being remains untouched by them.
Are all troubles of the lower nature conquered finally—especially sex?
No, sir. But the inner being is not touched.
Or is it that sex-desire rises up in the Yogis, but leaves them untouched, unscathed? No attraction for them? It must be so, otherwise how can they be called siddhas?167 No danger of a fall from the spiritual state?
It may be covered up in a way—so long as it is not established in all parts of the being. The old Yogis did not consider that necessary, because they wanted to walk off, not to change the being.
Why do you call it a beginning only? What more do you want to do except perhaps physical transformation?
I want to effect the transformation of the whole nature (not only of the physical)—that's why.
Could you whisper to me the names of those lucky fellows, those "half a dozen people", so that I can have a practical knowledge of what that blessed thing—"the Brahman, consciousness"—is like?
NO, SIR.
How can you have a practical knowledge of it by knowing who has it? You might just as well expect to have a practical knowledge of high mathematics by knowing that Einstein is a great mathematician. Queer ideas you have!
Are they Anilbaran? Pavitra? Datta? Dyuman? Nolini? Radhanand, but he can't be for he is Brahma himself, so keeps himself secluded like him, no?
???????
July 18, 1937
Self—Pus still coming out. Nose also angry!
What a bad-tempered "pussy" cat of a nose!
I dreamt that the Mother was building a very big hospital in which I would be a functionary... Dream of a millennium in advance?
It would be more of a millennium if there were no need of a hospital at all and the doctors turned their injective prodding instruments into fountain-pens—provided of course they didn't make misuse of the pens also.
July 19, 1937
Why so furious about infective instruments, Sir? They are supposed to be very effective.
That doesn't make an increase of hospitals, illnesses and injections the ideal of a millennium.
But why the deuce are those instruments to be replaced by fountain-pens? Want doctors to be poets or clerks? Or is it a hint to me to write more than prescribe?
I was simply adopting the saying of Isaiah the prophet, "the swords will be turned into ploughshares", but the doctor's instrument is not big enough for a ploughshare, so I substituted fountain-pens.
A swelling—size of a cherry—has appeared inside my nose... The tip is damn painful. Knifing is not advisable. I hope it won't leave me with a nose like that of Cyrano de—quoi?168
Let us hope not. That kind of nose wouldn't suit either your face or your poetry.
July 20, 1937
What's this devil of a condition I am passing through? No interest in anything—as if the whole world were dead, blank. There is no uprush of sex or desire and all that. But still a negative blank state! Experience of Nirvana? Tamasic vairagya? I am simply inactive, trying to keep myself steady and hoping that it will pass in time. But will it? No active way out?
Well, it may be one of two things. (1) The vital has dropped down and says "if I can't have what I want in this damned world of yours, alright I non-cooperate and ask for nothing." Hence the flatness—Result of course, tamasic vairagya. This kind of thing often happens at a certain stage of sadhana.
(2) Drop into the physical—first complete acquaintance with the principle of Inertia proper to the physical when it is moved neither by vital, mind, nor spirit. Lies flat waiting for the breath of God or any breath to stir it, but making no move of its own.
Hold on and call upon the Spirit to breathe.
I think you are exerting a damn lot of pressure, what?
Not so much as that—or if so, it is automatic
July 21, 1937
Guru, after all some poetry has come out. The head and tail seem to be all right, but the body has elongated beyond proportion, no?
The body is all right as well as the head, except for that impossible shining face of a voice. It is the tip of the tail that is defective.
I was urgently called by R to see his wife who had received a wound on the head by falling down... Two accounts were given, one in the morning, another in the evening, for the fall being the cause of the wound in such a place. Both were unconvincing. Better to trust than distrust, what?
Amen!
I asked R if he was going to write to the Mother about it; said no! Very funny!! Relying too much on self or automatic action of the Force?
He did not write when (he says) he was sick unto death recently Calling the Force in silence!
July 23, 1937
You know V is having difficulty in breathing through the left nostril. Maybe due to polypus. Do you know what he does? He has got some string, besmears it with bee's wax, passes it through one nostril, brings it out through the mouth, and then puts it into the other nostril. Feels much better! Hathayogic treatment, he says. I have no idea, have you? Any danger in it? Can't opine myself; only I think the rope is misplaced!
It is done by the Hathayogis with a cloth, I believe, just as they clean their entrails from throat to anus with a cloth. For them there is no danger, for they are trained but if it is done by a self-sufficient ass or even by an untrained amateur simply there may be danger in these things. Mudgaokar the Bombay judge (known to me) tried the cleaning of the nose with water, a simple Hathayoga process, and had trouble with his proboscis in consequence. It did not approve of his way of dealing with it.
Really, Sir, you have caught a magnificent fellow for Supramentalisation, what?
Well, sir, in the supramental world all kinds will be needed, I suppose. Then why not a supramental ass?
July 24, 1937
I hadn't understood "Psh" in Chand's letter. Got it at the last moment, by intuition, Sir: Paresh!
I see! It needed intuition to find that out!
S's same trouble continues or worse. Why are you silent on liver extract?
Extract liver—no objection.
A new trouble! Taint of acidity, burning in my throat. The Force is experimenting on me my patients' maladies to take them more seriously?
Who knows?
What is the damned meaning of this poem?169 What's this path? What's the height? Both being illumed by the moon etc.? It seems I have simply described Nature, giving free rein to imagination. Mystifying, no?
Why do you want any damned meaning? It is a mystic picture—plenty of mystic significance which is best left unintellectualised, but no damned meaning.
A height is a height of being, sir, and the seas are seas of the soul, and the path is a path to infinite peace and light. "That is all we know or need to know" as Keats has been telling you every day for the last hundred years. The path naturally goes across the tranced figure—it couldn't possibly get home otherwise.
...Please clarify.
Absolutely refuse to clarify anything. Let us leave it in its own radiant swoon of mystic misty wistful light.
Then at the end, what's the "slumbering seas", suddenly? Can't make out.
Why suddenly, man—you have been having seas and waters all the time.
No connections! A horrible mess, Sir! The beauty of the poem is buried under it, I fear, what?
Lord! Lord! If you had intellectualised the business with your connections, there would have been no beauty in the poem or at least no mystic beauty.
Through Surawardy's poems? Seems to be a genuine poet no?
Have not inspected the fellow yet. May perhaps do it tonight.
July 25, 1937
Please see Surawardy's poems and say something communicable to the old man!
Don't want to communicate—prefer on this point to be incommunicable—not to you of course, but to Calcutta (old man will hear of it.)
July 26, 1937
Old man is done?
How done? How am I to know if he is done or undone (by the young woman?)? He is in Calcutta.
What's this, really? J had eczema and now asthma! Is there any truth in the popular belief that when eczema disappears, asthma appears? Homeopathic theory, they say.
Never heard of it. The eczema of any number of people disappears without their getting asthma. It is the weather and a certain susceptibility in her physical to these things—no need for all these out of the way theories.
S—pain, burning "normal", i.e. you understand, I hope, this means normal pain.
Yes, of course. It is the patient who is abnormal.
July 28, 1937
Surely you know what I meant by "old man is done"?
Surely I did, but he was not at all done by me, so I had to pass on your question to the young woman.
D wants the poems back, you know.
Well, well—I will try to push my way through him.
People say I am getting absolutely bald, Sir. Two things I feared—one a big tummy and another, a smooth baldness.
Couldn't be saved from one. If you can't grow new hair, please help to preserve the little I have, Sir.
What one fears, is usually what happens. Even if there were no other disposition, the fear calls it in. Who knows, if you had not feared, you might have had the waist of a race-runner and the hair of Samson.
I read in Mother's Conversations170 that skin, hair and teeth "belong to the most material layers of the being", so spiritual Force takes a long time to act on them. Is it true?
Painfully true.
Then I have no chance till the Supermind descends?
I suppose not. And who knows what fancies the Supramental may have.
July 29, 1937
This is absolutely a third-rate poem.171 What to do?
What a queer card you are! It is as good as the others.
No use asking the virtue of the poem!
Very fine and glowing, sir.
July 30, 1937
Guru, here are Dilipda's letter and poems. He wants to know your opinion. Perhaps in the afternoon you will have some leisure.
What an idea!
Please read each one of the poems. I have glanced through them and they are really wonderful.
Have had time to read only two as yet.
Dilipda says that his poems are now appreciated. Personality incarnate?... And the "old man"? How is he?
Old man suspended by the eruption of Personality—perhaps tomorrow.
July 31, 1937
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