But
that is not so, not so. Even behind the trappings of the
theatre, a true hero may sometimes be lurking.
There is much in Sandip that is coarse, that is sensuous, that is
false, much that is overlaid with layer after layer of fleshly
covering. Yet--yet it is best to confess that there is a great
deal in the depths of him which we do not, cannot understand--
much in ourselves too. A wonderful thing is man. What great
mysterious purpose he is working out only the Terrible One [28]
knows--meanwhile we groan under the brunt of it. Shiva is the
Lord of Chaos. He is all Joy. He will destroy our bonds.
I cannot but feel, again and again, that there are two persons in
me. One recoils from Sandip in his terrible aspect of Chaos--the
other feels that very vision to be sweetly alluring. The sinking
ship drags down all who are swimming round it. Sandip is just
such a force of destruction. His immense attraction gets hold of
one before fear can come to the rescue, and then, in the
twinkling of an eye, one is drawn away, irresistibly, from all
light, all good, all freedom of the sky, all air that can be
breathed--from lifelong accumulations, from everyday cares--right
to the bottom of dissolution.
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