962 words
New Delhi
10 May 1975
Dearest comrade A,
How reassured I was on receiving your good letter! I was beginning to fear the worst: in a world in which the best are hated and the worst “up to any mischief” one cannot but feel worried.
See how men such as Grenfell (the author of Unconditional Hatred? — have you read that well-informed book of a real English patriot?) — and Paul Rassinier — the French pacifist, caught by the German occupying forces as “propagandist against the war effort” and sent to the Buchenwald camp for five years — after the war author of books such as Le mensonge d’Ulysse, Le passage de la ligne, etc. in which he shows the real culprits for “horrors” in concentration camps under German supervision (the “kapos” elected by the internees themselves, who starved their comrades by selling “black market” the food rations the Third Reich gave for them, and did all sorts of mischief) and practically whitewashes the Germans “guilty only of allowing those elected internees too much freedom of activity.”
After the coming out of Unconditional Hatred? Grenfell died mysteriously. And so did Rassinier — on 27 or 28 July 1967 — as his second book on the true origins of the Second World War came out. Both probably killed from a distance from age old practices, performed by many at a time. I suppose you know such things are possible, and done in certain circles (mostly Jewish, or Masonic — Masonry being “Judaism for non-Jews,” directed by the whole Jewish B’nai B’rith).
There are more ordinary killings also. Mr. Mukherji remains convinced that the assault on me — 1 March 1974 — was a Jewish-inspired affair, with the intention of having me killed (as I surely would struggle). But in fact I could not struggle — i.e., harm my aggressor — as the man was sitting on me to keep me immobile, and holding me down with a gag in my mouth for me not to be able to scream. He did not succeed in chloroforming me, as I sent the big bottle onto the floor with a jerk. And once he had the jewelry — forty years’ savings that I was keeping for my printing expenses — he just kicked me out of his scooter into a dark lane, instead of taking the trouble (and the risk; one never knows) of carrying me to the Jamuna and dumping me into it.
Anyhow, now I know you are alive and well. That is the main thing. You must live and have a large Aryan family, being thus doubly useful. You know the Negroes multiply nine times as fast as the Aryans in general. The USA will be submerged if it does nothing to stop that state of affairs. As we now cannot do more, the best for the young and healthy is to lessen the gap. Once in power, there is much more to do of course. But we are not in power yet — unfortunately.
As I told you already, I only wish the last Aryan American to leave the shores of Vietnam — or to die fighting Communism on Vietnam’s soil — were intelligent enough to think (if not say) “Hitler was right!” All this awful business in SE Asia (and it is not ended: Thailand’s turn, coming next!) is the merciless logical consequence of the USA’s help — millions of tons of arms and ammunition, millions of dollars — to Bolshevism (represented then by “comrade Stalin”) during the Second World War. Arms sent via Murmansk — don’t I remember it! That — the unavoidable link of cause and effect — is the real “justice of the Gods,” who, like me, “never forget and never forgive,” for They are none but the personifications of the Laws of action and reaction, the sustaining Laws of the universe.
Communism shall win everywhere now — for it is “in the line” of evolution. It expresses decay, race-mixing, a man-centered philosophy (all I detest), all that characterizes the “Kali Yuga.” But we shall survive, because the next “Yuga” — the dawn of the next Time cycle — needs us, to destroy the mischievous effects of the Dark Forces, and to begin anew. I hardly ever dream. I sleep soundly — ten hours a stretch without interruption. But I dream sometimes — once in years. Did I ever tell you my dream of 22 December 1954? If not, I shall in my next letter.
Thanks and thanks again for your wonderful present — your $150, coming just before the period 15 May–31 August) during which I do not get a cent from the Alliance Française, a God send! Thank you!
Here it is exceedingly hot. My cats are stretched out in the bathroom, panting. They drink water rather than milk. Eat hardly anything. When at 4 p.m. I go out to buy bread, milk, and “pet food” for them and the strays, I feel like stepping into a furnace. Even my room is an oven; no rooms upstairs; the sun shines all day upon my roof. The ventilation only mixes up burning air. The rains start end of June — the earliest — here in Delhi.
Then there will be a drop of twenty-five degrees centigrade in half an hour and a lovely downpour of water upon the thirsty, dusty earth. (We had dust storms, these days — which mean, with my South wall “like lace,” an inch of dust all over my tiny flat!!)
I am still waiting for printed forma eleven and proof of formas twelve and thirteen of my book — more than half printed by now. Am sending a third reminded to the printer.
If you ever come to India, don’t come within the two or three months before the rains! — rather immediately after the rains: in October, the best time. I wish you do come one day. I’d so like to meet you!
With the everlasting greeting of the faithful,
Yours sincerely,
Savitri Dêvi Mukherji