Look here, child, count yourself fortunate that your husband is not wasting himself as well!'
My husband's list of charities was a long one. He would assist to the bitter end of utter failure anyone who wanted to invent a new loom or rice-husking machine. But what annoyed me most was the way that Sandip Babu used to fleece him on the pretext of Swadeshi work. Whenever he wanted to start a newspaper, or travel about preaching the Cause, or take a change of air by the advice of his doctor, my husband would unquestioningly supply him with the money. This was over and above the regular living allowance which Sandip Babu also received from him. The strangest part of it was that my husband and Sandip Babu did not agree in their opinions.
As soon as the Swadeshi storm reached my blood, I said to my husband: 'I must burn all my foreign clothes.'
'Why burn them?' said he. 'You need not wear them as long as you please.'
'As long as I please! Not in this life ...'
'Very well, do not wear them for the rest of your life, then. But why this bonfire business?'
'Would you thwart me in my resolve?'
'What I want to say is this: Why not try to build up something? You should not waste even a tenth part of your energies in this destructive excitement.'
'Such excitement will give us the energy to build.'
'That is as much as to say, that you cannot light the house unless you set fire to it.'
