The light in his eyes somehow did not shine true. Yet, I know not why, it seemed to me, in spite of all its brilliance, that too much of base alloy had gone into its making. Not that he was bad-looking-far from it: he had a splendidly handsome face. There was something in his features which I did not quite like. I had seen Sandip Babu's photograph before. The whole place is filled with an immense crowd, through which Sandip Babu is borne, seated in a big chair hoisted on the shoulders of ten or twelve of the youths.īande Mataram! Bande Mataram! Bande Mataram! It seems as though the skies would be rent and scattered into a thousand fragments. Suddenly a stream of barefooted youths in turbans, clad in ascetic ochre, rushes into the quadrangle, like a silt-reddened freshet into a dry river-bed at the first burst of the rains. ![]() Triumphant shouts of Bande Mataram come nearer: and to them I am thrilling through and through. We women are sitting there, on one side, behind a screen. There is to be a big meeting in our temple pavilion. This was the time when Sandip Babu with his followers came to our neighbourhood to preach Swadeshi.
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