Diary 31 October 1950

I was far too tired to write anymore last night. I don´t even remember when I got home. In any case the guard at the main entrance was quite confused when he saw me marching towards him at such a late hour...it was simply inconceivable. Actually the whole course of events was much too impressive to be put into words. However, it is still a good hour until my audience with the Maharaja, and before I just sit here and imagine what it is going to be like...(and then finally even become nervous), I prefer to write a few sentences. So, to return to yesterday...even at the risk of repeating myself: my evening stroll through the town was - frankly speaking - beyond all form of description

I now also know what Divali is all about. It is the celebration of lights. And it really does do credit and honour to its name. Oil and tallow lights burned in each and every one of the individually carved and adorned wooden windows with their lavish decorations, and on each of the stone sills. Every temple and every shrine was enveloped in a sea of flickering tongues of light. The play of countless lights flashed on the golden statues of the gods and upon the grotesque faces of demons. Everyone, whether it was man or woman, old man, grandmother or child, were out on the streets. At every street corner and under every archway, dice were being thrown, and were rolling and clattering about everywhere. I once again thought to myself what strange people they were, all of them compulsive gamblers.