Dear madam,
Your letter gave me the greatest joy. If by giving up some one thing especially dear to me or to my brother disciples, many śuddha-sattva great souls who truly wish their country well would come to help our work, then know that we would not delay giving it up a single moment, nor would a single teardrop fall from our eyes; and when the time for work comes, you will see it. But so far I have not seen anyone come forward with help of that kind. One or two have wanted to set their own hobby in the place of our hobby, and that is all. If it is truly for the good of the country or of mankind, then know that, never mind giving up the pūjā of the Guru, I am ready even to commit some monstrous sin and suffer the everlasting hell of the Christians. But I am growing old looking and looking for a man. This saṁsāra is a very hard place. For a long while now I have been going about with the Greek philosopher's lantern in my hand. My Guru used always to sing a Baul song, and it comes back to me:
The one who is the heart's own man, you know him by his eyes; there are just one or two such, and that man of rasa comes and goes by the path against the stream.
So much for my side. Know that not a word of it is exaggerated, and when the time for work comes you will see.
Next, I have one little quibble too about those patriotic great souls who could join us the moment we drop the Guru-pūjā. I ask you: for the country the heart pounds so, the liver is all but torn to pieces, life is all but gone, the throat rattles, and so on, and then one single Thakur has put a stop to the whole thing?
This mighty river tossing with waves, whose force seems to sweep away hills and mountains, and one Thakur has sent it straight back to the Himalayas! I ask you, do you think any great work will come of patriotism like that, or that help of that sort can be of any real use? All of you would know; I for one can make nothing of it. A man parched with thirst, so particular about his water? A man half dead with hunger, so particular about his food, so much turning up of the nose? Who can tell what goes on in whose mind! It seems to me such people are best kept inside a glass case; when there is work to be done, the further back they stay, the better.
Love minds no caste, high or low; hunger minds no stale rice.
That much I do know. But then I may be wrong in everything; if everyone is going to choke to death with Thakur's fruit-stone stuck in their throats, well then, the stone can be let go. Be that as it may, I have a very great longing to talk with you all at length about this.
Illness, grief, death have all given me time until now to say these things; I trust they will give it still.
In this New Year may every wish of yours be fulfilled.
What more?
Vivekananda.