To Miss Josephine MacLeod
MY DEAR JOE JOE,
I have had several attacks of fever, the last being influenza.
It has left me now, only I am very weak yet. As soon as I gather strength enough to undertake the journey, I come down to Calcutta.
On Sunday I leave Darjeeling, probably stopping for a day or two at Kurseong, then direct to Calcutta. Calcutta must be very hot just now. Never mind, it is all the better for influenza. In case the plague breaks out in Calcutta, I must not go anywhere; and you start for Kashmir with Sadananda. How did you like the old gentleman, Devendra Nath Tagore? Not as stylish as “Hans Baba” with Moon God and Sun God of course. What enlightens your insides on a dark night when the Fire God, Sun God, Moon God, and Star Goddesses have gone to sleep? It is hunger that keeps my consciousness up, I have discovered. Oh, the great doctrine of correspondence of light! Think how dark the world has been all these ages without it! And all this knowledge and love and work and all the Buddhas and Krishnas and Christs — vain, vain have been their lives and work, for they did not discover that “which keeps the inner light when the Sun and Moon were gone to the limbo” for the night! Delicious, isn’t it?
If the plague comes to my native city, I am determined to make myself a sacrifice; and that I am sure is a “Darn sight, better way to Nirvâna” than pouring oblations to all that ever twinkled.
I have had a good deal of correspondence with Madras with the result that I need not send them any help just now. On the other hand I am going to start a paper in Calcutta. I will be ever so much obliged if you help me starting that. As always with undying love,
Ever yours in the Lord,