As I walk on the moonlit sands, S— usually comes up for a business talk. He came last evening; and when silence fell upon me after the talk was over, I became aware of the eternal universe standing before me in the evening light. The trivial chatter of one person had been enough to obscure the presence of its all-pervading manifestation. As soon as the patter of words came to an end, the peace of the stars descended, and filled my heart to overflowing. I found my seat in one corner, with these assembled millions of shining orbs, in the great mysterious conclave of Being.
I have to start out early in the evening so as to let my mind absorb the tranquillity outside, before S— comes along with his jarring inquiries as to whether the milk has agreed with me, and if I have finished going through the Annual Statement. How curiously placed are we between the Eternal and the Ephemeral! Any allusion to the affairs of the stomach sounds so hopelessly discordant when the mind is dwelling on the things of the spirit, and yet the soul and the stomach have been living together so long. The very spot on which the moonlight falls is my landed property, but the moonlight tells me that my zamindari is an illusion, and my zamindari tells me that this moonlight is all emptiness. And as for poor me, I remain distracted between the two.