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 who refuse to arm us, and who refuse to make us free.”

Dr. Das’s niece has a cute little boy of six who plays around the guest house. He speaks a few words of English. I asked him what language he spoke with his playmates. He said he spoke Bengali. He also can talk Hindi and Gujarati. Most of the little children in the ashram speak two or three languages.

Shortly after Dev and Aryanaikan left, I received a visit from Rajah, a Hindu married to a French woman. He had spent many years in France, and his French was even better than his English. He has a handsome Hollywood face with long sideburns and large, arched eyebrows over hanging burning black eyes. He spoke of the rottenness of France. He was spending several months at the ashram to renew his spirit. He had been raised among Moslems in India and had attended a Moslem school. He said the Moslems were more virile than the Hindus and more dynamic, more revolutionary—half the Indian Communist Party, he said, is Moslem. India’s best poets are Moslem. The Hindus, he said, are docile and less imaginative. I asked why, since there was no racial difference between Hindus and Moslems, there could be such a divergence of personal characteristics. “Is it food?” I asked. He attributed it to a different outlook on life. The Moslems have a real joie de