Letter 1

Dearest brother

Thus it is after 18 months I have a chance to touch pen and ink again: At this rate one can quickly unlearn the art of writing altogether! You must have been very anxious about this delay but as you had received a letter from our dearest Baba in July, I thought it would be more assuring to you to hear from us a few months later than at about the same time. How glad was I to learn that you have joined the medical course and are doing well. How do you like that course? To me it is a noble course. I should like you to take not only Medicine but the Science of Physiology itself as your special province. Please to follow it up not only as a profession but as a pursuit. It opens out inexhaustible field for charity benevolence. It is respected all over the world, in the Hotenttots as well as in the Aryans. The study of body-a temple wherein the soul lives-is next to the study of the soul itself.

Your choice of books last year was simply capital. Moropant, Bharat, Vivekanand-all standard book. Out of the books asked for by me only ‘ज्ञेयमीमांसा’ and ‘अज्ञेयमीमांसा’ did not come. Why? I have sent a list for this year, but do not spend more than 10 rupees on my books. If the list comes to more than that please go on omitting from the bottom. You need not buy all books new. You can send some second hand ones if you like.

And how do you like Bengal? By this time after the Puja holidays you are back to Calcutta and must have grown quite into a Bengali Babu-is not it? Forgotten Marathi language? Please take care you do not lose something else. For I am afraid I might hear at any time that some one of those clever Bengalis has stolen your heart away! Though I for one should like so much to have found a dear little Bengali sister in-law. I am as strongly in favour of these inter-provincial marriages among the Hindus as I am deadly opposed to the practice of marrying the European girls at this stage of our national life.
And now my dear Bal, something about me here. My health is all right. Ever since I came to this jail I never had a serious illness and have managed to keep my weight just what it was when I came here. I am both physically and mentally doing well –believe me, dearest, in some respects so well that I had hardly ever done so before; for life in jail, for good, for evil, is a unique chance. Man can never go out of it exactly as he came in. He goes out far better or far worse. Either more Angelic or more Feindish. Fortunately for me my mind has so quickly adapted itself to the changes in circumstances. It seems so strange that a nature so restless and active, roaming over continents, should so quickly feel quite at home in a cell hardly a dozen feet in length. And yet one of the kindest gifts of the Providence to Humanity is this plasticity, this adaptability of human mind to the everchanging environments of life.

When early in the morning and late in the evening I try a bit of Pranayam and then pass insensibly into a sweet sound- sleep. Oh how calm and quiet is that rest; so calm that when I get up in the morning it is long before I can realize again that I am in a prison cell lying on a wooden plank. All the common aims and allurements of Mankind having receded far, the conscience is perfectly pleased with itself with the conviction of having served under His banner and served to some purpose. A calm, a sweet equanimity is left with my soul and it lulls my mind in an intense peace. There are exceptions but this is the general rule. In fact if I be suddenly dropped in the midst of Bombay or London I think I will have to shout with the hermit in शाकुंतलः – ‘जनाकीर्ण मन्ये हुतवहपरीतं गृहमिव।।’

And even if hearing the market gossip your mind sometimes sighs ‘Oh still this life would have been more useful and dazzling outside’ even then remember that those who work outside, work much; but those who work in the prison work more; and after all, my dearest Bal, don’t you think that suffering is in itself work intense because subtle!

I get up in the morning when the bell goes on at 5 A.M. At its sound I feel as if I have entered a higher college for a higher study. Then we are doing our work of rigour till 10 A.M. while my hands and feet are automatically doing the given task, my spirit avoiding all detection is out for a morning trip, and across seas and oceans, over hills and dales, it roams sipping only pleasant things, and things noble, like a bee amongst the flowers. Then I compose some new lines. Then we dine at 12 noon, work again. From 4 P.M. comes rest; reading &c. This is the usual round of life here.
In your answer please inform me how our dear Motherland is getting on? Is the Congress united? Does it pass the resolution for the release of the Political prisoners from year to year as it did at Allahabad in 1910? Any remarkable Swadeshi enterprise like the iron works of Tata or Steam Navigation Company or new Mills? How is the Republic of China? Does it not sound like Utopia realized? ::: A Romance of History! Don’t suppose that China’s work is a day’s. No! from 1850 they have been strenuously at it, though the world knows not where the Sun is making its way –till it is risen: and Persia, Portugal and Egypt? And are the Indians in South Africa successful in getting their demands? Please mention if any important law has been passed by the new Councils, e.g. the Education Bill of the Hon. Mr. Gokhale. When the great Tilak is due to be released?

Did you show my letter to my beloved Yamuna? Please translate all to her. It is only a few years more –not more than 5- when a better day will dawn. So my beloved wife, hold on as nobly as you have done. My most respectful pranams to my dearest Vahini- she who had been and is still through her blessings –a mother, a sister and a friend at the same time. I cannot name, for obvious reasons, other whose memory my heart is now overwhelmingly full: Tell them all that I remember each and all of them. How can I forget them? No, a man in a prison can not forget. The mind, shut up from the new impressions can only feed on the old ones, and so in a prison so far from forgetting old acquaintances one vividly remembers and begins to love even those who were before forgotten. My sweet friends, in a prison one weeps and weeps and vainly waits for some one to come to wipe the tears-to speak a word of affection and love. Oh in a prison how can I forget? To all those please give my affection and love who you know were my sweet friends and comrades and dearer than life to me, and to those who even when some were not ashamed to disown the ties of blood, are still standing by you and remember me, my deepest obligations are due. :: They know that a letter from a jail must be more or less stereotyped, and hence no names. Please give my ashirwadas to dear Mai, my only sister and Vasant, my only hope. Also remember me to dear Mami and little Champi.