April 7, 1960
(Letter to Mother from Satprem)
Hyderabad, April 7, 1960
A few lines to tell you that I miss you. I truly realize more and more that I shall never be happy until I have disappeared in you entirely. There must be nothing left but That. I understand well enough, but I'm so blocked, so thick. In any case, I “think” of you a lot and I really only live by this something that pulls me deep within. If that were not there, it would all be so absurd.
I've booked my ticket to Rameswaram for the evening of the 13th, so I will probably reach there on the 15th.
I brought some work with me (revision of The Human Cycle), and that helps me to live. I still don't clearly see the meaning of this trip. Just before I left, I received word from the publisher in Paris that “my” book will come out in September.
There are moments when I feel you so close to me – could you not help me be more conscious of your presence (not as an impersonal force, but you)?
I love you, sweet Mother. You are truly my Mother, and I need you so much.
With all my love, I am at your feet.
Things are better physically. But it's always a terrible physical shock for me to take the train.
My dear little one,
Your good letter of the 7th has arrived.
This inner fusion you speak of as a truth to be realized is already accomplished, absolutely perceptible to me. For long I have felt you as an integral part of my being; it seems to me that only some surface eddies prevent you also from feeling and living it.
But I am convinced it will come. Meanwhile, I am trying to make you feel my presence not as an “impersonal force” but as a real and concrete presence, and I am happy to have succeeded in part.
Send me news of yourself, for I am always happy to hear from you.
I am with you, in love and joy.
As regards L'Orpailleur, it's good. I keep feeling that everything is going to turn out well.