INTROSPECTION[1]
Correspondents have written to me in pathetic language asking me not to commit suicide in January, should Swaraj be not attained by then and should I find myself outside the prison walls. I find that language but inadequately expresses one’s thought especially when the thought itself is confused or incomplete. My writing in the Navajivan was, I fancied, clear enough. But I observe that its translation has been misunderstood by many. The original too has not escaped the tragedy that has overtaken the translation.
One great reason for the misunderstanding lies in my being considered almost a perfect man. Friends who know my partiality for the Bhagavad-gita have thrown relevant verses at me, and shown how my threat to commit suicide contradicts the teachings which I am attempting to live. All these mentors of mine seem to forget, that I am but a seeker after Truth. I claim to have found the way to it, I claim to be making a ceaseless effort to find it. But I admit that I have not yet found it. To find Truth completely is to realise oneself and one’s destiny, i.e., to become perfect. I am painfully conscious of my imperfections, and therein lies all the strength I possess, because it is a rare thing for a man to know his own limitations.
If I was a perfect man, I own I should not feel the miseries of my neighbours as I do. As a perfect man I should take note of them, prescribe a remedy and compel adoption by the force of unchallengeable Truth in me. But as yet I only see as through a glass darkly
- ↑ From Young India.
