Our work proceeds apace. But though we have
shouted ourselves hoarse, proclaiming the Mussulmans
to be our brethren, we have come to realize that we
shall never be able to bring them wholly round to
our side. So they must be suppressed altogether
and made to understand that we are the masters.
They are now showing their teeth, but one day they
shall dance like tame bears to the tune we play.
“If the idea of a United India is a true one,”
objects Nikhil, “Mussulmans are a necessary
part of it.”
“Quite so,” said I, “but we must
know their place and keep them there, otherwise they
will constantly be giving trouble.”
“So you want to make trouble to prevent trouble?”
“What, then, is your plan?”
“There is only one well-known way of avoiding
quarrels,” said Nikhil meaningly.
I know that, like tales written by good people, Nikhil’s
discourse always ends in a moral. The strange
part of it is that with all his familiarity with moral
precepts, he still believes in them! He is an
incorrigible schoolboy. His only merit is his
sincerity. The mischief with people like him
is that they will not admit the finality even of death,
but keep their eyes always fixed on a hereafter.
I have long been nursing a plan which, if only I could
carry it out, would set fire to the whole country.
True patriotism will never be roused in our countrymen
unless they can visualize the motherland. We
must make a goddess of her. My colleagues saw
the point at once. “Let us devise an appropriate
image!” they exclaimed. “It will
not do if you devise it,” I admonished them.
“We must get one of the current images accepted
as representing the country—the worship
of the people must flow towards it along the deep-cut
grooves of custom.”
But Nikhil’s needs must argue even about this.
“We must not seek the help of illusions,”
he said to me some time ago, “for what we believe
to be the true cause.”
“Illusions are necessary for lesser minds,”
I said, “and to this class the greater portion
of the world belongs. That is why divinities
are set up in every country to keep up the illusions
of the people, for men are only too well aware of their
weakness.”
“No,” he replied. “God is
necessary to clear away our illusions. The divinities
which keep them alive are false gods.”
“What of that? If need be, even false
gods must be invoked, rather than let the work suffer.
Unfortunately for us, our illusions are alive enough,
but we do not know how to make them serve our purpose.
Look at the Brahmins. In spite of our treating
them as demi-gods, and untiringly taking the dust of
their feet, they are a force going to waste.
“There will always be a large class of people,
given to grovelling, who can never be made to do anything
unless they are bespattered with the dust of somebody’s
feet, be it on their heads or on their backs!
What a pity if after keeping Brahmins saved up in
our armoury for all these ages—keen and
serviceable —they cannot be utilized to
urge on this rabble in the time of our need.”
