To an Athlete Dying Young - A E Housman

To an Athlete Dying Young – A.E. Housman

The time you won your town the race

We chaired you through the market-place;

Man and boy stood cheering by,

And home we brought you shoulder-high.

Today, the road all runners come,

Shoulder-high we bring you home,

And set you at your threshold down,

Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away

From fields where glory does not stay,

And early though the laurel grows

It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut

Cannot see the record cut,

And silence sounds no worse than cheers

After earth has stopped the ears.

Now you will not swell the rout

Of lads that wore their honours out,

Runners whom renown outran

And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,

The fleet foot on the sill of shade,

And hold to the low lintel up

The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head

Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,

And find un-withered on its curls

The garland briefer than a girl’s.

The Poet A. E. Housman begins his poem grieving over the death of a young athlete who had been taken around in procession for winning his town running race competition. He regrets for the death of such a man. He becomes reflective and feels sad for the young man. The glory earned by the small success / attainment of victory does not stay for long. It fades away quickly. The laurel (shrub) though grows early / quickly, withers quicker than the rose. Note the pun on the word 'laurel' which also a means of a prize / an emblem for the victorious.

The poet turns metaphorical at this stage. The laurel symbolises the short life of human achievements / attainments. The rose symbolises the immortality or the fame or the glory of man surviving in his death.

Human life is full of struggle. The competitors / rivals strive to achieve victories at different levels of races. If the achiever loses sight of his covetous challenge cup and lies leisurely then he faces defeat. His name dies out from the list of achievers

The same holds good for all the achievers in their lives. Human beings will have to strive hard to be in the race all through their lives. Out of race would mean defeat / death. Thus, a racer losing his position in the race faces a death before his actual death.

The excellence achieved at the higher level will have strength to make a person to live on even beyond his death. The implication is that the laurel of life is shorter than that of the rose.

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Describe the character of Mr. Elton (Emma - Jane Austen)

Mr. Elton

As readers of the novel “Emma” we first hear of Mr. Elton, The vicar of Highbury, in the very opening chapter when Emma declares her intention of finding suitable wife for him. Emma expresses an excellent opinion about him in the course of her conversation with her father, and her father agrees with her, saying: Mr. Elton is a very pretty young man to be sure, and a very good young man, and I have a great regard for him.

Subsequently we again find Emma expressing a very favourable opinion about Mr. Elton. She thinks him to be “a remarkable handsome young man, with most agreeable manners”.  She also thinks that Mr Elton would surely fall in love with Harriet: she feels strengthened in this belief because he often talks of Harriet and praises her warmly, “when Mr. Elton offers to go to London in order to get Harriet’s portrait framed, it seems to Emma that he is definitely in love with Harriet now.

Mr. Knightley has, however, a different opinion of Mr. Elton from that held by Emma. Mr. Knightley thinks Mr. Elton to be a worldly-wise man who would marry for money and not solely  for merit. When Emma speaks to Mr. Knightley about her desire that Mr. Elton should marry Harriet, this is what Mr. Knightley say to her “Depend upon it, Elton will not do. Elton is a very good sort of man, and a very respectable vicar of Highbury,  but not at all likely to make an imprudent  match. He knows the value of a good income as well as anybody. Elton may talk sentimentally, but he will act rationally.” However, Emma persists in her efforts to bring about the marriage between Mr. Elton and Harriet, and she feels further encouraged to do so by the charade which Mr. Elton brings at Harriet’s invitation, because the solution to the Charade is the word “courtship”.

Mr. Elton really proves to be a worldly-wise man because, while Emma thinks  him to be a possible husband for Harriet, he himself has been harbouring an ambition to marry Emma herself. While returning from Randalls in a carriage in the company of Emma Mr. Elton surprises her by making an ardent declaration of love and saying that he would  be ready to die if Emma refuses him. When the shocked Emma tells him that he is supposed to be in love with Harriet, he denies the suggestion vehemently. Thus, Mr. Elton has never entertained any notion whatever of marrying that girl. It now becomes clear to Emma that Mr. Elton wants to marry a woman who can bring him a rich dowry: “He only wanted to aggrandize and enrich himself; and if Miss Woodhouse of Hartfield,  the heiress after thirty thousand pounds, were not quite so easily obtained as he had fancied, he would soon try for Miss somebody else with twenty or with ten”.  

After his rejection by Emma, Mr. Elton goes to Bath for a holiday and there gets engaged to Miss Augusta Hawkins. He returns from Bath as a very happy man: “He had gone away rejected and mortified. He came back gay and self-satisfied, eager and busy, caring nothing for Miss Woodhouse, and defying Miss. Smith.” Mr. Elton is happy to be engaged to a woman who will bring him a dowry of ten thousand pounds. 

Mr. Elton proves himself to be a mean fellow when he insults Harriet Smith on the occasion of the ball that is held at the Crown Inn, the hosts being Mr. and Mrs. Westen. He rejects a suggestion by Mrs. Weston that he should ask Harriet to dance with him. Emma is much perturbed by this low action of Mr. Elton’s. She had been thinking him to be an amiable, obliging gentleman, but he has proved to be mean and contemptible. Emma then says to Mr. Knightley: “I do own myself to have been completely mistaken in Mr. Elton. There is a littleness about him which you discovered and which I did not.

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Sketch the Character of Miss Harriet Smith (Emma - Jane Austen)

Miss Harriet Smith

Miss Harriet Smith is introduced to us in the early chapters of the story. She is the illegitimate daughter of an unknown parents and ultimately her unknown father is found to be a trader by profession. When the story opens, Harriet is a student at Mrs. Goddard school, and she is introduced to Emma by Mrs. Goddard herself. Harriet “was a very pretty girl and her beauty happened to be of a sort which Emma particularly admired. She was short, plump and fair, with a fine bloom, blue eyes, light hair, regular features, and a look of great sweetness.”

Harriet certainly is not clever, but she has “a sweet, docile, grateful disposition”. She is totally free from conceit; and she feels glad when Emma becomes her patron. Emma too feels very happy in the companionship of Harriet, and Emma’s father also recognizes Harriet’s value to Emma as Emma’s companion.

When, Harriet is introduced to Emma, she has been very intimate with the Martins’ family for the last several months. But Emma’s snobbery does not permit Emma to allow Harriet to continue her attachment to that family. Emma tries to convince Harriet that the attachment to the Martin family will do her no good so far as her future is concerned. Harriet tried a feeble effort to defend her attachment to the Martin family, but she is overruled by Emma, with the result that Harriet has to keep away from that family as much as possible. Thus, on account of her submissive nature Harriet agrees to obey Emma’s wishes in this matter.

Harriet’s submissive nature is also responsible for rejecting Mr. Martin’s proposal of marriage to her. If Harriet had not been under Emma’s influence, she would certainly have accepted Mr. Martin’s proposal in the very beginning. But Emma argues the case in such a clever manner that Harriet is left with no alternative but to send a negative reply to Mr. Martin. Mr. Knightley was of the opinion that Harriet should consider herself lucky to become Mr.  Martin’s wife, but Emma has different plans about the girl to that Harriet’s natural inclination in this respect is thwarted by Emma.  Harriet’s rejection of Mr. Martin’s proposal comes as a great disappointment to Mr. Knightley. Mr. Knightley does not share Emma’s high opinion of the beauty and abilities of Harriet, and he says to Emma, “Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you. What are Harriet smith’s claims, either of birth, nature, or education, to any connection higher than Robert Martin? She is not a sensible girl nor a girl of any information.” 

Emma sows in Harriet the seeds of an ambition to marry Mr. Elton. Under Emma’s persuasion, Harriet really begins to believe that Mr. Elton is in love with her and so she begins to dream of getting married to the vicar. Mr. Elton’s repeated praise of Harriet, his enthusiasm at the portrait of Harriet painted by Emma, his prompt offer to go to London in order to have the portrait framed – are all regarded by Emma, and therefore,  by Harriet also, as sure signs that Mr. Elton is in love with Harriet. Consequently, when Mr. Elton proposes marriage to Emma instead of to Harriet, both Emma and Harriet receive a big shock. Harriet’s disappointment is very bitter; her grief is intense, and she sheds abundant tears. 

At the ball given by Mr. and Mrs. Weston, Harriet is insulted and humiliated by Mr. Elton who refuses to dance with her. At this time, Mr. Knightley comes to her rescue by inviting her to dance with him. She thereupon filled with a deep gratitude towards Mr. Knightley, and this gratitude takes the form of a passion for him. Harriet is now no longer as welcome a friend to Emma as she was in the past. In fact, Emma wishes that she had never met Harriet. Emma arranges for an invitation from her sister Isabella to Harriet to go to London and spend sometime there. In London, Harriet happens to meet Mr. martin who repeats original proposal of marriage to her. This time there is no occasion for her to reject the proposal, and so Knightley’s view that Harriet was the most suitable wife for Mr. Martin.

Thus, Harriet serves as an object for Emma to exercise her power and authority upon. She is a perfectly passive character as compared to the dynamic and domineering Emma.

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The Character and Personality of Emma Woodhouse

The Character and personality of Emma Woodhouse

Emma Woodhouse the very important character of the novel “Emma”, is introduced to us in the very opening sentences of the novel as handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and a happy disposition. She is nearly twenty-one years of age at this time, and there is very little to distress or vex her. She is the younger of the two daughters of a most affectionate father, Mr. Henry Woodhouse.  Her elder sister, Isabella, had been married long before and settled with her family in London. Emma has been the mistress of her father’s house for a long time. Her mother had died when she was a child, and she had been looked after for many years by a governess, Miss Anne Taylor who has just got married. Having been very intimate with Miss Taylor (who has now become Mrs. Weston), Emma misses her badly.

In the very chapter we find her claiming that she had brought about the matrimonial alliance between Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston. This claim is refuted[mp1]  in blunt terms by Mr. Knightley who says that Emma had not brought about this match but made a lucky guess that Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston would get married. Mr. Knightley speaks to Emma in such a way to deflate her vanity in this matter.

Emma suffers from several illusions and misconceptions all of which are successively shattered in course of time. Her first illusion, as Mr. Knightley said that she had a hand in bringing about the marriage of Miss Taylor and Mr. Weston. Her second illusion is that she can find a suitable match for the vicar[mp2]  of Highbury, Mr. Elton. She thought that Harriet Smith, an orphan, whose responsibility is undertaken by Emma is perfect match to Mr. Elton. She therefore takes the necessary steps to wean the girl away from the Martin family to whom the girl has been greatly attached for many months.

Emma does not think Mr. Robert Martin to be a suitable husband for Harriet. Her whole approach to the possibility of a marriage between Mr. martin and Harriet shown Emma’s social snobbery. Mr. Martin is a mere farmer, and Emma thinks Harriet to be a fit wife for a man belonging to a much higher rank in society ― Mr. Elton. Emma’s snobbery[mp3]  is seen also in her attitude towards the Coles. She thinks it beneath dignity to mix with them because they have risen to wealth from a much lower position. So, she does not respond to their invitation when they gave dinner party for all the people of Highbury. Emma’s snobbery is traced even in indifferent treatment of Miss Bates in the past.

Emma is not only snobbish but lacking in sense of realism. When a written, proposal of marriage is received by Harriet from Mr. martin, Emma instigates Harriet to reject it, though Emma does so in an indirect manner without appearing to influence Harriet’s own judgement.Ostensibly, Emma gives to Harriet full freedom in saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to Mr. Martin’s proposal, but actually it is she who takes the decision on Harriet’s behalf. Thus, we find that Emma is also capable of a certain sophistry.[mp4] 

It is Emma who puts into Harriet’s head the notion that Mr. Elton is in love with her and will marry her. Emma herself paints a portrait of Harriet which Mr. Elton takes to London to have it framed. And Emma, who never fails to exercise her imagination in such matters, says to Harriet; “At this moment perhaps, Mr. Elton is showing your picture to his mother and sisters, telling them how much more beautiful is the original, and after being asked for it five or six times, allowing them to hear your name, your own dear name.” Subsequently she makes every possible effort to promote a match between Harriet and Mr. Elton and receives a big shock when Mr. Elton proposes not to Harriet but to Emma herself. Thus, Emma discovers how sadly mistaken she had been in her assessment of the character of Mr. Elton. Mr. Elton’s proposal as a great disillusionment for Emma.

Emma’s attitude towards Frank Churchill and her judgement of that man’s character again show Emma to be an “imaginist”. Emma is always inclined to believe what she wishes to believe and not what is actually or really the case. She first thinks of Frank as a possible husband for herself. Then, dismissing him as a lover or husband for herself, she imagines him as a possible husband for Harriet, her ground for this belief being no more than the fact that Frank has rescued Harriet from the gipsies. It is in this context that the author calls Emma an “imaginist”. Just as previously she had received Frank’s attentions to herself as the advances of a suitor or wooer, so now she begins to treat him as a suitor for Harriet. She completely fails to understand the reality of Frank’s character in spite of the fact that Mr. Knightley tries to open her eyes to the true character of that young man. She begins to think Mr. Knightley to be “illiberal” and unjust in his assessment of Frank and tries to defend Frank till the shocking revelation comes that Frank has long been engaged to Jane Fairfax.

It is not possible to appreciate Emma’s attitude towards Jane Fairfax in early stages. Emma had always kept distance from the time of earliest acquaintance with Jane. It could have been, as suggested by Mr. Knightley, a sub-conscious jealousy on Emma’s par which prevented her from becoming friends with Jane. Subsequently, Emma’s dislike of Jane is strengthened by what seems to Emma the coldness and reserve of Jane. However, Emma tries to amend herself to Jane and eventually both have become good friends at later stages of the novel.

Emma shows a lack of delicacy in her treatment of Miss Bates also. On the occasion of the visit to Box Hill, Emma says something very rude and offensive to Miss Bates. Emma’s words on this occasion amount to her accusing Miss Bates of extreme dullness in whatever Miss bates has to say. However, when afterwards Emma is rebuked by Mr. Knightley for this rudeness. Emma realizes her mistake and makes amends to Miss Bates by paying a friendly visit to her.

Likewise, Emma’s character is treated in the novel with the mixture of little arrogance and compassion. Her kind-heartedness is also seen in her when she was ultimate realization of the troubles through which Jane Fairfax has passed. Her rudeness to Miss Bates on one occasion should not be regarded that she is hard-hearted and callous woman.

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 [mp1]The action of proving a statement or theory to be wrong or false

 [mp2]Minister, rector, priest, parson. Minister of region, cleric

 [mp3]The character of quality of being snob.

A person with an exaggerated respect for high social position or wealth who seeks to associate with social superiors and looks sown on those regarded as socially inferior

 [mp4]The use of clever but false arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving

THE GIFT OF INDIA - SAROJINI NAIDU

The Gift of India – Sarojini  Naidu

Is there aught you need that my hands withhold,
Rich gifts of raiment or grain or gold?
Lo! I have flung to the East and West
Priceless treasures torn from my breast,
And yielded the sons of my stricken womb
To the drum-beats of duty, the sabres of doom.

Gathered like pearls in their alien graves
Silent they sleep by the Persian waves,
Scattered like shells on Egyptian sands,
They lie with pale brows and brave, broken hands,
They are strewn like blossoms mown down by chance
On the blood-brown meadows of Flanders and France.

Can ye measure the grief of the tears I weep
Or compass the woe of the watch I keep?
Or the pride that thrills thro' my heart's despair
And the hope that comforts the anguish of prayer?
And the far sad glorious vision I see
Of the torn red banners of Victory?

When the terror and tumult of hate shall cease
And life be refashioned on anvils of peace,
And your love shall offer memorial thanks
To the comrades who fought in your dauntless ranks,
And you honour the deeds of the deathless ones,
Remember the blood of my martyred sons!

THE GIFT OF INDIA – Sarojini  Naidu

The Gift of India is one of the patriotic poems of Sarojini Naidu, the Nightingale of India. It was written in 1915 and included in her volume of poems entitled The Broken Wing. Mahatma Gandhi had called upon the people of India to co-operate with the British Government during World War I, and in response to his call Indian youth in large numbers joined the army, and went to distant battlefields, and thus laid down their lives in the service of their motherland. They were the gifts of mother India to the world

In this moving lyric, Mother India herself speaks to the world. She asks the world what else does it require from her? Has she kept back any rich clothes and grains of gold from the world? If so, she is ready to give them also. She has already given to the world her most precious possessions i.e., her brave and heroic sons. She gave them to the world when she heard the call of duty, and they went away to distant lands only to meet their deaths there. When she did not keep back her sons and allowed to go to their death in distant parts of the world, there is nothing else, which she would withhold or refuse. Nothing was more precious to her than her sons and she has already given them to the world.

Mother India expresses her grief for her dead sons through a number of similes following each other in quick succession. They are now buried in their graves in foreign lands like pearls in their shells. Some of them are lying dead in distant Persia, as if they have been sent to sleep by the sweet rhythmic music of her murmuring rivers. There are others whose dead bodies are scattered on the sands of Egypt, as it they were empty shells. Their brave hands have been broken and their faces are deathly pale. There are still others who lie scattered on the bloodstained meadows of France and Flanders.  They lie there like flowers that have been plucked and scattered all over by the cruel hands of destiny. Thus mother India has given her most precious gifts, her sons, to the entire world.

The world cannot adequately measure the grief of Mother India, nor understand the suffering and anguish of the vigil, which she has kept over her dead sons. Her anguish and despair, no doubt, are intense and unfathomable, but her heart also thrills with pride when she remembers their heroic deeds. Full of anguish she prays for their souls, but hopes of the future also comfort her heart. She sees glorious visions of the future, of which her heroic sons fought and dies would be victorious. No doubt, even such victory would have a tinge of sadness, but visions of such a victorious future console her and make her proud of her heroic sons.

Sarojini ends the lyric on a note of hope and prophecy. Today hate and strife rule the world and strike terror into the hearts of the people.  But a time will soon come when the reign of hate and war will end, and life will be shaped anew ‘on the anvils of Peace’. When the reign of falsehood will end and Truth shall prevail, the world would remember the deeds of her sons. The world would be grateful to them. The world would then honour the immortal deeds of her sons, and remember forever their heroic self-sacrifice. The martyrdom of her son has not been in vain and earned love and gratitude and a permanent place in history.

It might be a topical or occasional lyric, but the sons and daughters of Mother India with throbbing hearts will always read it. It is Sarojini’s tribute to the greatness and glory of her native land – India.

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SWAMI VIVEKANANDA - Bhabani Bhattacharya

SWAMI VIVEKANANDA ― In the Words of Bhabani Bhattacharya

A strange mendicant walked the streets of Upper India in the hot months of 1888. Tall, broad-shouldered, thick-set, he had a wide forehead, a strong jaw, large dark piercing eyes. He wore the saffron garb of an ascetic, and carried a staff, a begging bowl. He was twenty-five.

Some years earlier he had been a student at college, reading avidly, using his amazing intellect to assimilate vast funds of knowledge, but ever restless, bewildered by his own inner hungers, torn within, baffled and at bay. With the other Bengali intellectuals of the time he visited the holy man Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar, somewhat sceptic, yet drawn by his bitter soul-storm to seek a place that held the promise of anchorage.

Ramakrishna fascinated him. He had met the mystic of the Kali temple with battle in his eyes. He struggled awhile with the dominating personality, wielding logic like a sword, till argument faded into faith. There followed a period of self-preparation – the study of philosophy and the meditative way.

Wanderlust seized him then. He felt stifled among the little community of disciples at Baranagore and longed to escape. He left all at once and set out on the highway. Benares, Ayodhya, Agra, Brindaban…. At Hathras he found a companion. He had reached the railway station, weak with hunger, when Sadananda, the young station-master, saw him and was strangely perturbed by his glance. ‘I followed two relentless eyes,’ he said later. He asked the yogi to his house, and when his guest left, he went with him, dressed as a mendicant. Up the heights of the Himalayas then went, and in the silent grandeur and solitude of the white-clad peaks the searchful mind sank into meditative repose.

Sometime after he set out on a second journey across Upper India. Great ideas were developing in his mind, among them the Vedantic conception of ‘Oneness of all,’ a universal gospel. He felt the pressure of an inward power, a torrent of his own creation that beat upon him for an outlet. In an unguarded moment at Benares he broke into rough words: ‘I am going away; I shall never come back until I can burst on society like a bomb and make it follow me like a dog.’ Romain Rolland aptly comments: ‘He suffered from that excess of power which insists on domination and within him there was a Napoleon.’ 

So, he left Baranagore again during the rains of 1890 and stayed away for over six years. The first three were years of wandering, always on foot, from the Himalayas to the Cape. In the Himalayas he lived with Tibetan races. Down in the plains he had contact with criminal tribes. In Central India he lives awhile with sweepers. One day he was a beggar on the street or else sheltered by untouchables, and the next day he was an honoured guest in a Maharaja’s Palace. His interest in man was as compelling as his interest in God. Was no missionary. He was travelling to see India and to feel India. The poverty and misery he witnessed crystallised the thought: ‘Religion is not for empty bellies.’

He reached Cape Comorin, fatigued, with no money to pay the ferry. But he would not be held back at Land’s End. He swam the water of the strait!

It was in those days that he made a fateful decision. He had now heard of the Parliament of Religions to be held at Chicago a year later. He decided to take part in it. India had a gift for the West. He would be a conveyor of that precious gift of Advaita philosophy. A friendly Maharaja gave him his passage. At the moment of his departure from India’s shores he assumed the name of Vivekananda.

In America he suffered from bitter cold and even starvation. And then it seemed that the long journey would end in disaster. No speaker was to be accepted without official credentials, and of these he, an unknown wanderer, had none. Anyhow, it was already too late for the registration of new speakers.

The difficulties faded unexpectedly. A chance introduction in a railway train brought Vivekananda into contact with a renowned Harvard Professor. Fascinated by the young Indian’s personality, the Professor used his influence to arrange that Vivekananda would represent Hinduism at the Parliament of Religions.

The great assembly opened on September 11, 1893. Vivekananda did not speak until the end of the day. At last he rose, saffron-robed, a great saffron turban on his head. He addressed the vast gathering as ‘Sisters and Brothers of America!’ The informal words were electrical in their effect. Hundreds rose and applauded.  Never before had Vivekananda spoken to such an assembly, and unlike the other delegates he used no written text, not even notes. His subject was the Vedantic concept of Advaita, Oneness of all, and ‘his speech was like a tongue of flame. Among the grey wastes of cold dissertation, it fired the souls of the listening throng.’ His voice was deep, impassioned, full of beauty and power; it was described later as ‘an admirable baritone having the vibrations of a Chinese gong’. 

During the session he spoke about a dozen times. The American press recognized him as ‘undoubtedly the greatest figure in the Parliament of Religions’. All at once Vivekananda had risen from obscurity into glory such as no Indian had yet known overseas.

He wept over his victory; Romain Rolland tells us.  ‘Oh Mother,’ he groaned, what shall I do with fame when my people are lying in misery?’

He was undeceived by America’s outward glitter. In course of his subsequent lecture tour through the United States he often stirred the anger of his audience by laying bare the many evils of Western civilization, the narrowness of spirit and the brutality. He did not spare Christianity either. ‘Yours is a religion preached in the name of luxury…. Those who call upon Crist care for nothing but to amass riches! Christ would not find a stone on which to lay his head among you…. You are not Christians. Return to Christ!’

When enraged clergymen began to spread base lies about Vivekananda’s private life, he laughed them to scorn. An accusation came from his disciples in India that he had eaten beef. His answer was characteristic: Do you mean to say I am born to live and die one of those caste-ridden, superstitious, hypocritical…. cowards…. I belong to India just as much as to the world, no humbug about that. ‘he believed in on other restrictive vows save those of poverty and chastity.

From America he crossed over to Europe. He met Max Muller, Paul Deussen and Margaret Noble. As he returned home in a blaze of publicity, India feted him. Flowers were strewn on his path. A Rajah drew his carriage. The county was struck with joy and pride that an Indian has imposed himself on the West and become a world personality.

Now it was time to gather the fruits of victory. But Vivekananda was a sick man, marked out by death. Malaria and diabetes had been sapping his vitality for years. Yet he roused himself to a herculean task and laid the foundations of Ramakrishna Mission.

His fight was, in a measure, against age-old traditions. India’s yogis had always striven to realise their ideals in meditative inaction. They seemed lost to the outer world. Vivekananda made service the keystone of religious quest. ‘Your Bhakti is sentimental nonsense.’ he told his brother monks roughly. ‘Who cares what your scriptures say? I will go into a thousand hells cheerfully if I can rouse my country men to stand on their feet and be men inspired with the spirit of Karma Yoga.’

He began a whirlwind tour of India. He urged the necessity of ending the poverty of the masses. He preached inter-caste marriage, a better life for Hindu widows, abolition of untouchability. He lashed at the ‘don’t-touchisms’ (as he called them) of Hindu society with angry scorn. ‘Feel, my would-be reformers,’ he cried, his eyes flashing. ‘Do you feel? Do you feel that millions and millions… have become next-door neighbours to brutes?  Do you feel that millions are starving for ages? Do you feel that ignorance has come over the land as a dark cloud? Does it make you restless? Does it make you sleepless?... Has it made you almost mad?’

Western disciples came to India at his call. Then he set out again for America and Europe to establish branch Missions at different centres. His life was ebbing fast, but he would not spare himself. He went to Paris as delegate at a Congress of Religions. Eastward through Austria to Constantinople and the Bosphorus, on the shores of which he met some Sufi monks. Then to Athens, to Cairo. Suddenly in Egypt he heard the call of death and hurried home to India. Shattered in health, he yet undertook, because of an inward urge, a journey to Mayavathi, the ashrama perched on far Himalayan heights. Four days’ march through the severe December snow exhausted him utterly. While at Mayavathi, he stepped into his thirty-eight year. He felt soon, journeying down the slopes.

Then he lay dying at Belur. Ever since his days of wandering he had drawn heavily on his great balance of physical energy. Even when worn out completely by diabetes, he had willed his body to relentless toil. He had lived intensely, and his task was accomplished. ‘What does it matter?’ he cried, as the end was near. ‘I have done enough for fifteen hundred years!’

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