ROOTS AND WINGS

Nirmaldasan

 

1. AL PARADISE

 

Methought when I had shut mine eyes

An angel bade me soon arise

And hark to song of paradise.

 

The angel sang in mellow rhyme

How God had spun the wheel of Time

And shaped with clay a man sublime;

 

How God for man had made the trees,

The warm sun and the pleasant breeze,

The teeming earth and halcyon seas;

 

How God bade man perform the rite

Of naming beasts and birds in flight

And each and every tree in sight;

 

How God, according to a plan,

Made Eve for Adam in a span

And bade all angels worship man.

 

All angels excepting Iblis

Adore man, and the earth they kiss,

And attain a state of mystic bliss.

 

'Gainst God and man did Iblis sin;

To no angel was he a kin,

For proud Iblis was of the Jinn.

 

He looked at God and dared to say,

"All may say 'yea' but I say 'nay'

For I'm of fire and he of clay!"

 

The spirit of God does inspire

Mortal Adam though made of mire

And not proud Iblis made of fire.

 

Who can withstand the wrath of God?

'Gainst Iblis will He spare the rod?

Mercy only for man of clod.

 

Iblis to God for reprieve cries

Until the day the dead shall rise,

But vows to lure mankind with lies.

 

From paradise shall God expel

Iblis and those under his spell;

With such as these he'll fill up hell. —

 

Now awake I shall recall,

With a quill-pen upon a scroll,

The angel's song of Iblis's fall.

 

I recall just parts but realise

Earth is better than flaming skies

And pride has no place in paradise.

 

2. PRITHVIRAJ AND SAMYUKTHA

 

Prithviraj was a Rajput king,

Monarch of Agra and Delhi.

Of him now I intend to sing —

A song of love and chivalry.

Though oft this tale been heard and told,

These strains of mine thine ears shall hold.

 

Save those who have no ears to hear,

Who has not heard of Samyuktha?

Fair is her visage, and eyes clear,

And slender frame without a flaw.

King Jaichand's daughter of Kanouj,—

Whom would she love but Prithvirooj!

 

Of his valour the breeze whispers,

And her bright eyes with love sheen;

And the birds sing into his ears

Of her love and lovesome mien.

And thoughts of her in his mind springs,

And his heart spreads its joyful wings.

 

O what a great feeling it is

To love and be loved in return!

In what else is more bliss than this,

And for what more does the heart yearn?

It is a blessing from above,

The blessing of requited love.

 

When Jaichand of the affair heard

'Tween Prithviraj and his daughter,

His mind and heart and soul were stirred

To that deadly sin called anger.

He would have happy been had she

Loved a beggar and not Prithvi!

 

Where can Wrath find a better seat

Than in Jaichand's mind? And he planned

Swayamvar for his daughter sweet

That princes may hope to win her hand.

And from various lands princes came

With hearts kindled with passion's flame.

 

With a choice garland in her hands

The princely assemblage she faced;

And the princes from distant lands

With longing eyes upon her gazed.

At the portals a statue stood,

Statue of Prithvi made of wood.

 

Was not Prithvi Jaichand's nephew?

Then wherefore is this mockery?

Would it matter though this be true,

For did not Jaichand him envy?

And therefore at the portals stood

Statue of Prithvi made of wood.

 

With indiff'rent eye she passed by

Prince after prince to their dismay;

And then approached with a sigh

The place where the statue lay.

The assemblage was astounded

When she the image garlanded.

 

Into the vast hall Prithvi rushed

On a courser at furious speed;

And the fairest rose that e'er blushed

He lifted up on to his steed.

And into startled Samyuk't ears

He whispered, "It's I: have no fears."

 

She let a dewy teardrop fall

While a smile adorned her visage;

But rushed the princes from the hall

To their coursers with swelling rage.

Though oft this song been heard and told,

These strains of mine thine ears shall hold.

 

On they spurred their flaming horses,

And sore did Jaichand head the chase;

From their lips a thousand curses

And glist'ring swords they all did raise!

And as they rode at break-neck speed

They seemed to gain on Prithvi's steed.

 

Dauntless o'er the plains rode he,

The hooves kicked up the clouds of dust;

And did Samyukt fear? No, not she,

For on him had she all the trust.

The scabbard dangled by his side

As though it longed for being tried.

 

The saffron ball sank in the west

And stars in the welkin arose,

And Prithvi's steed outpaced the rest;

And that brings this song to a close.

Where and when can we again find

A bold deed sublime of this kind?

 

3. SIDDHARTHA'S PARTING

 

From this bed of pleasure let me arise,

Now that I am awake, and contemplate

The vanity of things.

                                        The moon shineth

At full tonight, but must tomorrow wane

And wane still to pass into nothingness

And cease through this casement to peep and gaze

At these — my beloved and only son! —

Sleep still, Rahula, thou a father's pride;

Sleep will weave for thee dreams lovely and sweet.

And me forgive, my fairest spouse, for I

Must leave ye to search and find in quietness

The meaning of life, if meaning there be.

 

All these years long, within these walls confined,

My sensual mind to the full was nourished.

Mine eyes saw naught but beauty, and mine ears

Heard naught save music soft; my tongue tasted

All that was sweetest, and my nose sensed naught

Except fragrance sweet; and that faculty

Of touch — the best of all — to lie asleep

Betwixt her shapely breasts! —          

                                                        All these years long

Have I dwelt in falsehood and thought it Truth,

Dwelt in darkness and thought it glorious light,

Dwelt in death and thought it deathless life.

Woe, for long have I in ignorance dwelt!

 

I would in ignorance still have remained

Had not I the other day chanced to spy

The various faces of melancholy.

First saw I a man with a pallid face,

Belike struck by some deadly disease…

Then I another beheld — decrepit,

With face wrinkled, bony limbs and hairs grey…

Then a ghastly sight I saw… cruel Death…

A man asleep in a box borne by four…

A sleep wherein there is no awakening…

Alas! Should we too face these three?

Sanguine may we be that sickness perchance

May not invade this fort of portals  nine…

But this is certain,— we cannot escape

Ageing: Time with the invisible threads

Of Age will tightly bind our countenance;

And where beauty is, wrinkles soon will be!

And then there is Death which brings to a close

The flow'r that blows at morn and fades at eve…

Into the sea of omnipotent Death

We willy-nilly flow like turbid streams…

 

Is this the end? Is Life a living Death?

And Death a dying Life? I have my doubts…

Or do I in vain inquire for answers

Which may exist and perchance not, when I

Should most make of all that life has in store?

Nay, I hear the inward voice me instruct

To renounce these pleasures, these vanities…

Is vain my love for Yashodhara-sweet?

And is my fatherhood a vanity?

Let these lesser questions unanswered be;

I hear that inward voice thunder "renounce!"

I needs must obey…

                                                Yet I linger still,—

How would thou feel, O my fairest, when thou

Awakest and find me not by thy side?

O my son, to thy mother's bosom cling;

Thou should her solace be when I am gone.

For a noble cause do I leave ye both

Only to return with hidden truths found.

Let me kiss thee, my sweet-heart, ere I part —

Nay, nay! Let me not myself bind again

With these vain bonds baptized forsooth as love.

Sleep still, ye both, sleep all the cares away!

But I must awake remain and wander

Till the Truth of truths be found…

 

4. THE SONG OF TODDY

 

Part I

 

My throat is dry as an arid lake,

My tongue parched like a blade of grass.

The cool and sparkling waters cannot slake

This accursed thirst of mine,

Nor would an overflowing glass

Of whisky, rum or wine!

The scorching sun invokes mine ire,

I drip with sweat and would melt away.

Thick clouds as gloves would serve me fine

And I will catch this ball of fire

And toss it into the ravenous bay.

 

I'll go to the fields and get me a drink

To quicken my spirits that now do sink.

Thirsty, I'm thirsty; thirsty, I'm thirsty;

No drink would serve me fine as toddy.

Thirsty, I'm thirsty; thirsty, I'm thirsty;

I needs must drown a draught of toddy!

 

Quickly, tapper! quickly climb the tree

And bring down this soothing drink for me.

Come on; up, up the tree! O waste no time!

Just a drop would allay my thirst

(But never would my lips be purst).

My heart with thee the tree dost climb;

Methinks, the top to reach, I am the first.

Ah, tapper, you gracefully climb the tree

To bring down this soothing drink for me.

 

In the shadeless shade of the curved palm

Sits the tapper's spouse singing a psalm

And suckles her baby boy! —

Drink, little fellow, to your mother's joy…

Ha, ha! but this is an amusing scene

Which reminds me of the saying

That if under the palm you be seen

And though 't be milk you are drinking,

All may think the drink is toddy.

But drink on, I say, with a suck of glee

For I know you drink a wholesome drink;

My enlivened spirits can nevermore sink

And (strange!) no more am I thirsty.

 

Part II

 

But to me the tapper brings my drink;

I refuse not though no more I be thirsty.

With joy my mind bubbles, and thoughts like 

bubbles wink

As I drain a draught or two or three of toddy.

I said a drop would do, but I must have more;

And so I fell to drinking, drinking, drinking

Till the twilight sun was close to sinking,

And I watched the sea waves lave the shore.

Now my bubbling thoughts like waves behave

And now a swirling whirlpool!

One more draught I drink in vain

To quicken my spirits that fain would sink

While a log I float on the whirlpool's brink.

My dizzy thoughts vacate the brain

And drained of thoughts I seem a fool

And plunge into the abysmal cave.

 

'Twas then methought I heard a psalm;

Nay, more it sounded like a lullaby

To lull mine eyes to a forever calm.

And then — O was it a vision or a dream? —

I saw my mother in the life to be

In the shadeless shade of the curved palm

Singing a lullaby, a light-veined theme,

As I the new-born baby lay on her knee.

 

"My sweet babe, thou tapper's son,

See thy father climb the palm;

The day is done, the twilight sun

Sinks into the sea so calm.

 

"Cry not, cry not, my sweet psalm,

I'll sing for you a lullaby.

But under this shadeless palm

I will not suckle thee.

 

"Sleep or smile, my sweet balm,

I will not suckle thee;

For under this shadeless palm

They'd think you drink toddy.

 

"But when home we go, sweet son,

For milk you need never cry;

You may suck with glee and suck on

Till both my breasts go dry."

 

Ah! dear mother in the life to be,

How light-veined is the lullaby.

But in the shadeless shade of the curved palm

Do lull mine eyes to a forever calm.

 

5. CHRISTOPANISHAD

 

Discovered at play in a sylvan scene,

Beside a sparkling pool amidst the trees

Draped in innocence, the young Nazarene,

With soiled hands placed tender upon his knees,

Beholds the dove-like shapes he formed with ease;

And their number sums with looks serene

Whilst hangs the twilight sun shorn of its arrows

keen.

 

No longer base, though formed of sordid clay,

Seven doves he sums; still upon the meads

Seem they to meditate as well to pray!

At home his pious mother the scriptures reads

And his father solemn tells his beads

With hearts contrite on this the sabbath Day

The Lord of lords to praise and please, if please they

may.

 

Her child Mary sought with a care-worn look;

And when him she found beside the dove-like forms,

Pressed close to her breast was the Holy Book.

Joyous he ran into her enfolding arms

And she, though pleased, to him her mind informs:

"Go, my dearest, and pray: God cannot brook

On a Sabbath thy idle play!" which mild rebuke

 

Him touched to the quick. "Fly away!" he cries;

And the doves, chained to earth by subtle strings,

Hear his voice and strives each in vain to rise

In air till from hill to hill the echo rings

To enliven them and quicken their wings!

Then imbued with breath they sever their ties

And soar with ease to explore the ethereal skies.

 

Astonished did she the miracle behold,

Perceived with wonder mute the sudden flight.

Him she lifts and vows never more to scold

And kisses his cheeks,— and lo! a spring of light

Floods her being and illumines her sight.

She gazed into his eyes with love untold:

Therein the mysteries of the universe unfold.

 

Unveils the apocalypse to her ken

The calm depths and stormy brim of the sea;

She sees a new earth, another Eden,

The mystic dance of spheres in harmony,

And perceives the subtle truths of all that be!

And hears enlightened a voice break forth from

                heaven,

"Not men for Sabbath, but Sabbath for men!" Amen.

 

6. THE KITES OF TRIPLICANE

 

I've walked the streets of Triplicane

And found me oft beside the sea.

The sad waves rolled to share my pain,

The wild waves laughed to share my glee.

But now I know such thoughts are vain;

These waves cannot deceive again.

 

I've walked the streets of Triplicane

With thoughts of immortality.

No more do I gaze at the main

Whose waves know neither woe nor glee.

But still by its shores I remain

And look up at the welkin plain.

 

I see the kites of Triplicane

Gliding high in the skies with just

A casual flap of wings twain

To flick a speck of evening dust.

My raven thoughts flap wings to gain

The heights where only kites remain.

 

The kites glide over Triplicane,

Spiralling up and down in play.

Other birds go in search of grain,

These kites I've never seen to prey.

Can they for long their lives sustain

If o'er the clouds they still remain?

 

No hills I see near Triplicane,

Wonder where these kites swoop to nest.

How calm they glide, so free and fain!

But flapping thoughts do long for rest

In House of Joy and House of Pain;

One is my home, the other my fane.

 

7. THE SHIVERING CROW

 

A gust of wind blew up the dust

And shook the trees as though insane

And pushed a train of clouds that burst —

A sudden spell of summer rain.

 

A sudden spell of summer rain

Surprised the world of man and beast.

But children dripping ran in fun —

North and west and south and east.

 

North and west and south and east

The whole town ran to shelter find.

A crow then shivered, not the least,

Though perched on branch of tamarind.

 

Though perched on branch of tamarind,

The dripping leaves did soak its wings.

The children saw this sight and grinned

And aimed smooth pebbles with their slings.

 

They aimed smooth pebbles with their slings

At shivering crow in vain, in vain;

The bird first shook its body and wings

And shivering still it braved the rain.

 

 

 

 

8. BIRDS OF PASSAGE

 

A bird of passage sings,

"God granted us our wings

To spread them without rest

Or fold them in the nest;

God granted us our wings."

 

A bird of passage sighs,

"When winter comes, summer flies.

And so we leave our nest

And wing towards the west;

When winter comes, summer flies."

 

A bird of passage cries,

"Our home is in the skies.

When summer deserts the west,

Return we then to our nest;

Our home is in the skies."

 

A bird of passage sings,

"God granted us our wings

To fold them in the nest

Or spread them without rest;

God granted us our wings."

 

9.  THE BARREN TREE

 

The sun has made its daily round,

My roots have delved without a sound

Deeper and deeper and have found

                Just a little water.

For forty years I've stood my ground

                Though barren for ever.

 

Yon trees bear fruits, in kind the same;

But what the devil is my name?

Fruitless branches proclaim my shame

                And the curse of my birth.

But who the hell can I blame

                Except my Mother Earth?

 

My crown of leaves the rude winds steal;

None there be my sorrows to feel.

But Time may have the power to heal

                And fill my womb with seed.--

O let th' thunderbolt strike my heel

                And mock my hopes to breed!

 

With not a kin to be of cheer,

I feel I am an alien here

And struggle in this atmosphere

                Like a bird in a cage;

Or a seed in droppings, I fear,

                Of some bird of passage.

 

I will curse every thing that flies,

The bird that dropped me from the skies,

My leaves that tear away in sighs

                For a home far away.

And I will curse my root that lies,

                Relies on foreign clay.

 

10. THE SERPENT AND THE KITE

 

The kite left its pinnacled nest,

When the sun rose from eastern bed

And curved towards the distant west.

Its broad dark thrilling wings it spread

In search of prey, a daily quest,

From morn until the sun was red.

     But in vain seemed its graceful flight

     For all its prey were out of sight.

 

Each prey can venture in the gloam;

But when the kite spirals the skies,

Each serpent should spiral at home

And wait until the last light dies.

Then may it slither out to roam

And fill belly with frogs or mice.

     But the serpent of this song went,

     Dared before the last light was spent.

 

Sharp are the eyes of birds of prey,

Sharper are those of famished kite.

The snake had just begun to stray

While the bird's eyes glowed with delight;

And wings froze in air, so to say,

And the kite was no more in flight.

     It dropped like bolt, a casual feat,

     And with beak and claws clasped its meat.

 

Frogs saw this sight and croaked with joy,

But the snake strove to wriggle free.

At most it could the kite annoy

And dampen its spirit of glee.

Only God can this bird destroy;

To Him it made a hissing plea.

     Spiralled with grace, glided with ease,

     But no more this bird finds its peace.

 

Behold a metamorphosis!

Is God almighty kind or mean?

The bird's beak can nevermore kiss

Another prey or feathers preen.

O what a fall from heights of bliss!

Plumes so dark change to leaves so green;

     Talons turn to roots at a stroke,

     And beak with bones to stem of oak.

 

Behold a metamorphosis!

Is God almighty mean or kind?

The serpent can nevermore hiss

Or mate with kind with bodies twined.

O what a change to creeper's bliss!

Changed to ivy — the oak to bind.

     Thus fell the snake a parasite,

     Wedded glad to the oak in plight.

 

The creeper was a pious snake

That pitied even a frog's croak.

Such a pity is still awake

And so it forgives kite and oak.

Fasting on with immortal ache,

It clings to oak like just a cloak.

     Pity is sublime, such as this;

     May God bless this metamorphosis.

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