The Home and the World

e, a halting gait does not suit me. I knew I was overbold that day. I knew that the first shoc

n not half a bad place to live in but for these schoolmasters, who make one want to quit in disgust. The Nikhil type wa

. As for poor Bee, she at once took her place solemnly, like the topmost girl of the class on

lying in wait by the line, to shunt one's

han he cast about for some excuse to ret

, saying: "Pray do not leave us, sir. Will you not take a seat?" She loo

d, perhaps, to raise her value in my eyes. She might have been pointedly saying to me: "Please don't im

hoolmasters thrive on it. But not being one of

gues. There is nothing like letting an old man talk himself out. It makes him feel that he is wind

n Chandranath Babu went on to say: "If we expect to gather fruit

of the Gita who says that we are concerned only

at you do want?" as

imed, "which cost

only," he replied. "They have a

y to cultivate thorns for other's soles; afterwards when they hurt us we shall find leisure to repent. But why be frightene

ch have got on in the world have done so by action, not by ebullition. Those who have always lain in dread of wor

loins to deliver a

andranath Babu rose,

now, my little mothe

end

Nikhil the book in my

bout this b

lude this perpetual pupil of the schoolmaster with the truth. He is best cheated op

, "are busy with their brooms, sweeping away the dust of epithets with which men h

ad it," sa

hat do y

ho really care to think, but poi

do you

s. For, if they are, they would be preaching lies. When passion i

des us. To call it untrue is as hopeless as to expe

th of restraint. By pressing what we want to see right into our eyes we only injure them: we do not see. So

in moral delicacy, ignoring the savage side of truth. This merely helps you to

out of place, does not help you in your work ... But why are we arguing a

shock, leaving her assailed with doubts and wanting to learn her lesson afresh from the schoolmaster? Still, a th

aid to Nikhil, "for I was on the point of

s neither mere physiology, nor biology, nor psychology, nor even sociology. For God's sake don't forget that. Man is infinitely more than the natural science of himself. You la

this exciteme

bent on insulting man

rth do you s

You would go on wounding the great,

dea is this

"man may be wounded unto death, but he will not die. This is the

ds he hurriedl

ook, falling from the table, made me turn to find Bee following him w

g has been a misfit, he will bow his head and admit that it may have been a blunder! He has not the strength of mind to understand that to acknowledge a mistake is the greatest of all mistakes. He is

Now she must either advance or retreat, open-eyed. The chances are she will now advance a step, and then retreat a step. But that does not

ome to the conviction that to acknowledge and respect passion as the supreme reality, is to be modern-not to be as

now and again. There is a wrench at my heart, a pang in every nerve. When I have put out the light and am in my bed, little touches, little glances, little words

aken out hers. Yesterday I showed Bee the empty side and said: "Theft becomes necessary only becau

," observed Bee simply

it cannot be better than a portrait. I

he pages. "If you are annoyed," I went on,

hen fresher, and so was my mind. Then I still cherished some illusions about this world and t

xt to Nikhil's, for are no

ter

il's