Page:The Mahabharata of Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa (1884).djvu/28



Impressed from my very youth with the desire of rendering the great religious works of India easily accessible to my countrymen from a hope that such a step, if accomplished, would, to a certain extent, counteract the growing scepticism and irreligion of the age, I nursed the wish for years in secret, my resources having been quite disproportionate to the grandeur of the scheme. The occupation to which I betook myself was that of a Book-seller and general Agent. After some years of unremitting toil, I achieved a success in my business which, in the face of the keen competition of the times, I could consider as in every respect fair. I secured a competence upon which, if I liked, I could retire. But without doing any of the kind, I resolved to carry out, of course to the extent of my means, the scheme I had always nursed regarding the great Sanskrit works of antiquity. I soon brought out an edition in Bengali of the Mahabharata, the great epic of Vyasa, a perfect storehouse of religious instruction imparted not by dry precepts but enforced by the history of living men, princes and warriors, sages and hermits, in fact, of every specimen of humanity that can interest man in general. My edition consisted of 3,000 copies, and it took me a little more than seven years to complete it. The price I fixed for a copy, taking all circumstances into consideration, was Rs 42. Babu Kaliprasanna Singha's edition of the same work (Babu Kaliprasanna Singha having distributed his edition gratis) had sold their copies for Rs 60 to 70 per copy in the open market.

A little after my edition had been brought out, I was afflicted by a domestic calamity with the details of which I need not acquaint the reader. Suffice it to say that for some time I was like one demented. On the advice of friends and physicians, I tried the effect of a temporary separation from old sights and scenes. But mine was no disorder of the nerves that a change of climate or scene could do me any good. Mine was "a mind diseased, a rooted sorrow to be plucked from