London 3
October 1890
When I come to this country I really, truly think of that wretched, unfortunate Bharatbhumi of ours as my mother. She does not have the power this country has, the wealth it has, but she loves us. All the love I have felt since I was born, all the happiness, is in her lap. The attractive spit and polish of this place will never be able to lure me—it’ll be such a relief to return to her. If I could sit in one corner of that land and like a honeybee accumulate love in my own hive, remaining unknown to all of civilized society, then there is nothing more I could want.