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My father subsequently joined the Medical College, and became the most distinguished Indian medical practitioner of his time. His culture had dispelled from his mind the orthodox ideas fostered by his domestic environment. He belonged to a generation, some of whom had sat at the feet of Derozio, and, like the first converts to a new cult, their alienation from the faith of their fathers was complete and even militant. Peary Chand Mitter, in his life of David Hare, has told us how this group of young alumni of the Hindu College, fresh from their contact with the learning and literature of the West, rejoiced in an open and ostentatious parade of defiance, how they ate forbidden food, and threw the remnants into the houses of their orthodox neighbours. It was with this new spirit that my father was saturated. Thus, in our home, the two conflicting forces of those times met, but in no spirit of antagonism. The predominant influence, however, was that of orthodoxy, represented by my grandfather, for the authority of the head of the family, even in matters of belief, was still paramount.

Nevertheless, an atmosphere of controversy was generated, which stimulated a spirit of research and enquiry. It was amid this conflict of opposing forces that my earliest years were spent, and what was happening in my family was symbolical of the strife and contention between Eastern orthodoxy and Western culture that was going on in every educated home in Bengal. It must not be imagined for one moment that it disturbed our peace, except on rare occasions, for tolerance is ingrained in the Hindu nature; and in those days, so long as we were not interfered with in our religious beliefs or practices, we did not mind what others around us, it might be our own kith and kin, said or did. The present spirit of opposition and intolerance observable among some of our people was unknown; and reverence for the head and the elders of the family was the resounding note of the Hindu household.

My earliest recollections go back to the days when, as a boy of five years, I was sent to a pathsala (indigenous school) to learn Bengalee. The guru mohashoy (teacher) treated me with the consideration due to my Brahminical rank and the fame of my father. But he was a strict disciplinarian and on one occasion he called me mara Brahmin (a sheepish Brahmin), and I refused to go back to the pathsala. I was obdurate and my parents had to yield. I was then sent to a Bengalee school to complete the study of my mother tongue. Here I stayed for a couple of years, and was later admitted into the Parental Academic Institution to learn English. My real