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THE MEMOIRS OF A CAT
ones
of senile decay. The disease, having been of such a long standing, has worn out the whole psychophysical system of the Indian society; it is cating into its very vitals. Cure can be effected only by a daring, radical operation. Decayed glands must be mercilessly eradicated, and extraneous grafted in their place; the blood of vigour must be borrowed from foreign bodies. In plain language, India must either turn her back upon the paralysing tradition of her spiritualist culture, to accept humbly and eagerly her share of the common human heritage, foolishly condemned by her misleaders as "Western civilisation"; or she must be prepared to go down in the struggle of earthly existence with the venerable deception of a higher disembodied "spiritual" life as recompense for the calamity.
The much too belated renaissance will never come as a return of the legendary Golden Age. India can never be free so long as the masses of her people remain deluded by the preposterous notion that spiritual slavery is the highest human virtue. She will never prosper so long as she remains saddled with the misfortune of being guided by pseudo-prophets and false philosophers who preach the pernicious cult of simple life. If simplicity is the ideal, the simpler the life, the better it is. Obeying this sermon, the people of India must stand on the road of life with faces backwards. In pursuit of the false ideal set before
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