(Reflection on a Letter from Germany and Gandhi’s Response in Young India, 1925)
This is a timely reminder to all who leave their homeland in search of comfort, personal peace, or recognition—especially those drawn to spiritual or intellectual pursuits abroad. A letter written to Dwijendra Nath Tagore from Germany in the 1920s—quoted and commented on by Mahatma Gandhi in Young India—captures this longing well. What’s striking is that the same disillusionment and escapism that this German writer experienced a century ago are still widespread across the world today.
As Gandhi pointed out with his usual clarity, “the grass is always greener on the other side.” While the writer dreams of coming to India to find peace and become a philosopher, Gandhi reminds him that India too is full of hardship and contradiction. Good men struggle everywhere. The longing for peace must not depend on geography, but on inner transformation.
This perspective should also caution those who enter religious vocations—whether as priests, monks, sannyasis, gurus, or acharyas—not to do so simply to escape worldly obligations. Gandhi astutely notes that true spiritual service doesn’t begin by abandoning our responsibilities, especially those closest to us. Taking up the robe must never become a way to opt out of family or societal duties under the guise of serving others.
Of course, there are exceptions—situations where one’s family is well provided for, or one’s absence causes no harm. But in principle, what Gandhi points out remains a timeless check against spiritual careerism. It’s a subtle temptation: serving the world while bypassing the person next to you.
As a Tamil proverb humorously puts it:
“The man who couldn’t catch a chicken on the rooftop said he would climb to heaven.”
(கூரை ஏறி கோழி பிடிக்க முடியாதவன்; வானம் ஏறி வைகுந்தமே போறேன் என்றானாம்.)
The message is clear: don’t use the highest calling as a cover for avoiding the most basic one.
Gandhi’s reflections offer a sobering yet compassionate challenge: genuine peace and responsibility begin here and now, with the people and problems closest to us. The location doesn’t matter. The inner integrity does.
Ashram, May 22, 2025
After Thought: Having said this, I wonder why that German, who wished to sit at the feet of Mahatmaji to learn and become a philosopher, had to write to the senior Tagore. Most likely, he had been reading Young India and already anticipated what Mahatmaji’s response would be. Perhaps he hoped Tagore might recommend him, prompting Mahatmaji to consider his request more favorably. Tagore, however, did the right thing by forwarding the letter directly to Mahatmaji, leaving it to him to decide. In my view, this was the wisest way to handle such a delicate matter.
I can’t help but imagine how such a scenario might play out in contemporary India. If a similar request were to come from the West today, many a guru might immediately jump to welcome the visitor—often for unclear reasons. Even if the person could not offer financial benefit, the association itself might be seen as a mark of prestige, serving to enhance the guru’s credibility: “See, even people from the West are seeking me out.”
But what Mahatmaji did was in keeping with his nature and leadership. He had received several invitations to visit the West, especially America. Though he never rejected them harshly or with offense, he consistently declined them with grace—always mindful of his life, purpose, and responsibilities in India. His refusal wasn’t just about staying back; it was also a subtle but firm statement that geography did not define value. Yet, while he remained deeply committed to the freedom struggle of his motherland, he never turned away anyone from abroad who approached him seeking help, guidance, or wisdom. He was simply focused—aware of his limitations and the urgency of his mission.
A Tamil proverb beautifully captures this spirit: அகலா உழினும் ஆழ உழுதலே நன்று
Appendix
248. A CRY FROM GERMANY
Bora Dada [Dwijendra Nath Tagore} has received a letter from Germany from which I take the following:
Corruption cries to the sky. All bad men live in wealth but all good men have a hard struggle to fight out; the poorest of all are we town clerks, for our salary is very small, 35 dollars a month, and so is our life a perpetual starvation.
I often desire fervently to come and see India, to sit at the feet of Mr. Gandhi. I am quite alone. I have neither wife nor children. A poor sick niece who has none but me keeps my house. I should become a priest, if there was not my poor niece. I cannot leave her in misery. However I am an academician. I have studied classical and modern foreign languages. I have also studied Mysticism and Buddhism. I cannot find a better place nor a better salary. That is so in the Germany of today.
Before the terrible War 15 years ago I was an independent man, an investigator; now, after the terrible decline in value of our money-standard, I am a beggar like a thousand other learned men in Germany. (p.465) Now I am 45 years old and you cannot think how desperate and hopeless
I am, what a great disgust I feel in Europe. Here the men have no soul and are wild beasts who devour one another. Could I go to India? Could I become an Indian philosopher? I believe in India and I hope India will save us.
Mahatmaji’s Response:
The opening lines of this letter might well have been written by any Indian clerk. His position is no better than the German clerk’s. In India too “bad men live in wealth and good men have a hard struggle to fight out.” It is therefore a case of distance lending enchantment to the view. Friends like this German writer must be warned against regarding India as better than Germany or any other country. Let him realize that riches are no test of goodness. Indeed poverty often is the only test. A good man voluntarily embraces poverty. If the writer was at one time in affluent circumstances, Germany was at that time exploiting other countries. The remedy lies with every individual in every country. Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances. The writer says that, but for his poor niece, he might have become a priest.
This seems to me to be a distorted view. It would almost appear
that the writer’s present state is somewhat better than that of a priest of his imagination. For now he has at least one poor person to look after. Under the priestly licence, he would have none to look after! The fact, however, is that as a true priest he would have hundreds of nieces and even nephews to look after. As a priest the sphere of his responsibility would be as wide as that of the universe. Whereas now he slaves for himself and his niece, as a priest he would be expected to slave for the whole of distressed mankind. I would then venture to advice this friend and others like him without adopting the clerical robe to identify themselves with all in distress. They would then have all the advantages of the priestly calling without being exposed to its terrible temptations.
The German friend would like to become an Indian philosopher. I assure him that there are no territorial distinctions in philosophy. An Indian philosopher is as good or as bad as a European philosopher.
One thing the writer, in my opinion, has guessed somewhat correctly. Though India has her share of wild and soulless two-footed beasts, probably the tendency of the average Indian mind is to discard the wild beast in it. And it is my certain conviction that, if India retains the way she chose in 1921, Europe has reason to hope much from India. She chose then (p.466) with the greatest deliberation the way of truth and peace and symbolized it in her acceptance of the charkha and non-co-operation with all that was evil. From all I know of her, she has not yet rejected it and is not likely to.
Young India, 19-11-1925, CWMG, pp. 465-466
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