I have always, however, been pleasantly struck by the understanding I have encountered, as a Hitlerite, among orthodox Hindus of all castes.
I related at the beginning of these talks the episode of the young Shudra, with the beautiful historical name of Khudiram, who showed more sense of true values—and a more accurate appreciation of Adolf Hitler’s role—than all the Democrats of Europe and America put together. I have also quoted Satyananda Swami, the founder of the Hindu Mission, for whom, however, the creation of a common Hindu front against the clutches of Islam, Christian missionaries, and Communism, counted even more than strict observance of orthodoxy. The latter held our Führer to be ‘incarnation of Vishnu—the only one in the West’.
I could, on this subject, multiply my recollections and recall for example that admirable Brahmin of Poona, Pandit Rajwadé, so versed in the work of Nietzsche as in the sacred texts (which he commented on, twice a week, before a narrow circle of disciples) and who professed the deepest admiration for ‘the chakravarti king [universal ruler] of Europe’ who had come to ‘re-establish the true order’ in a world adrift. I could relate the words of another unusual man—less literate perhaps, but gifted with a strange power of clairvoyance—whom I met at the beginning of the war in a friendly family, of which he was the guru or spiritual master. This wise man said to me: ‘Your Führer can only be victorious because the gods themselves dictate his strategy. Every night he divides himself into two and comes here to the Himalayas to receive instructions’.
I wondered what Adolf Hitler would have thought of this unexpected explanation of the German army’s victories. I then said to the holy man:
‘It is, in this case, unquestionable that he will win the war.’
‘No’ he replied, ‘for there will come a time when his generals will reject his divine inspiration and disobey him—will betray him!’
And he added: ‘It cannot be otherwise; if he is an Incarnation, he is not the supreme Incarnation—the last of this cycle’—Alas!
(City of joy: Calcutta by Samir Barman.) But that’s not all. How could I forget the atmosphere of the orthodox Hindu families with whom I am most familiar? That, for instance, of the house of one of my brothers-in-law, then still living, and a physician at Medinipur,  with whom I was staying during the Norwegian and early French campaigns? They all enthusiastically accepted my suggestion to go to the temple of the Goddess Kali—to the ‘House of Kali’ as we say in Bengali—to give thanks to the One who both blesses and kills for the triumphal advance of the soldiers of great German Reich.
We went in procession, carrying offerings of rice, sugar, flour, fruit, garlands of scarlet flowers—in the absence of the bloody sacrifice which the family rejected as much as I did. I can still see myself, surrounded by young people who were also proud of their Aryan ancestry, standing before the terrible Image with the curved sword. Inhaling the smoke of the incense, lulled by the haunting musicality of Sanskrit liturgical formulas, I sometimes closed my eyes to better see in my mind’s eye, like a grandiose fresco, the parade of German armoured vehicles along the roads of Europe.
I lived intensely my role as a link between the oldest living Aryan civilisation in the East and this Aryan West that Adolf Hitler was conquering to return it to itself and regenerate it. Then I looked at my nephews and nieces, and the young Brahmins, their neighbours and fellow students, who had accompanied me. And I dreamed of the day when I would finally see the new Emperor—the eternal Emperor—of the Twilight Lands [Abendland = West], awake and rising from his mysterious cave, and when, greeting him with my outstretched arm, I would say to him, ‘Mein Führer, I bring you the allegiance of the elite of India!’
It didn’t seem an impossible dream then…
How could I forget the general joy in Calcutta—and no doubt in the rest of the peninsula too—at the news of Adolf Hitler’s troops entering Paris or, some twenty months later, at the announcement of the lightning advance of our allies the Japanese to the Assam border and beyond?
The kids themselves, newspaper sellers, their faces radiant, triumphantly threw to the public the names of the captured cities—every news day: Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Rangoon, Mandalay, Akyab, Imphal in Indian territory—one after the other. The colonial government had banned listening to German radio. People who could hear German were listening to it illegally.
I know Hindus who listened to it without understanding a word just to hear the voice of the Führer. They felt that the One who spoke to the Aryan world in an ‘Indo-European’ language unknown to them was also speaking to them—at least to the racial elite of their continent.
______ 卐 ______
Compare this holy euphoria with the way the Americans and the British people reacted to Hitler’s divine voice! Compare it with the red letters in our very long post yesterday (‘American racial history timeline—Or—On Jared Taylor’s cherries’)!
It needs to be said a million times until it is understood: Christianity fried the brains of the Aryan man to the extent that, after WW2, the Aryan man handed over their Abendland to the Jews!
To save the white race from the anti-White war of extermination that the entire Abendland is suffering, it is an absolute categorical imperative to repudiate, with all our being, the accursed religion of our imbecilic parents.
If the Aryans of India had conquered Abendland with their religion, during WW2 Westerners, including the American and English people, would have been as euphoric at the German advance in Europe, and beyond, as these children untainted with a lethal Semitic-Christian poison.
 Still often written as Midnapore: a city in West Bengal.