_7th December 1894._
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.