-38_A Poem

 

                                         gentle heart fell into error!

A high desire caught you in the meshes of Sannyasa!

A mighty effort is Krishna, the eternal Emanation:

Dharma is fallen in the whirl of adharma in this age of Kali!

Vainly you find fault with the Path and blame it.

You cannot understand my violent purpose:

A slave of ignorance, of sattva (Light) mixed with tamas

                                                                                                                                                  

Or else even in this violent act you could recognise your dearest friend,

Recognise Krishna. You .understand Radha,

Him you did not understand. Whenever he sees the Earth

                                                        besieged by the Asura,

He always comes down shaking the unshakeable;

He turns round his spear and hurls it head foremost into the

hidden bottom of the ocean.

You understand the Flute, you understand Vrindavan,

You have not understood the killing of Kamsa, you have not

     understood the war of Kurukshetra.

You are a perfect Vaishnava, you chant hymns to Buddha.

But Vishnu and Rudra are one body, they are only different limbs ―

Have you forgotten it? Have you forgotten that the very fount of kindness 

And the cruel slayer Kalki are one and the same Incarna­tion?                                                                            

Kanu withdraws the violent Kalki-mood within his bosom

And kneels down at the feet of Radha.

The plenitude of kindness is kept imprisoned within the Mother's heart,―

Demoness, Titaness, Ogress - all their brood run riot in wild strife.

This Buddhist cult was created in illusion and delusion

­Forbearance has made the spirit sluggish, compassion filled it with affliction —

­It has no ardent yearning for the good of the world,

It wields no sword of knowledge to cut down ignorance,

Its humbleness makes it void of energy and its laziness empty of substance,

Proud of its shaven pate and an inflated belly­

This is not Buddha's spirit. He is free from illusion,

He is calm and tranquil, he is a supreme ascetic of iron will, he is a mighty hero;

Trampling friendship and riches on his path, he is wholly given to his mission,

He never turns aside,-he goes on, his eyes fixed on his journey.

This Vaishnava path, its heart melting in pity,

Full of slothful compassion, feeble and withdrawn from life,

The body always lolling lazily, the mind stricken with kindness, —

Drunk with the wine of spiritual lust, this unheroic Dharma

Declares that it worships the world-hero Krishna

And in act and word tramples upon his Word

and his Dharma,

 

Speaks always of kindness and love,

Has emptied real Kindness and Love of its burning truth­â€•

Nor is it Chaitanya's path. He is mighty and steadfast:

Intense love, intense forbearance, free from tamas, heroic,

He is the Fair-Body (Gauranga), child of the Effulgence

                                                                             (Sachi). 

 Have you not seen the ocean?

 The Supreme God himself in hiding as though: layer

                                                         after layer a mass

Immobile, bottomless, still, stretching beyond sight,

The blue immeasurable dancing upon it.

The ripples laugh and weep, - the huge waves

Fall at the feet of the Earth and kiss in playful moods.

But that delightful play of the ocean

Could never be if a deep foundation

Unmoved, unplumbed, secreted, is not held firm

By the great Ocean, conscious within, the expanse incommensurable,

In its self-luminous darkness, silent and alone.

In this mighty stillness the dance-drama goes on.

And again, hast thou not seen when lashed by the gale

Fierce unbridled it springs up miles after miles?

Roars the wild ocean, relentless, bourneless.

Endless cruelty embodied, expanse of wrath

Laughs covering the sky. Deafened with roars,

Scattering raucous cry and lion-growls lie the heartless Ocean ―

­Boats sink, men sink. Does it hear the weepings,

Maddened with the relentless play in the embrace of the wind?

This is another game, another dance, another note,

This kiss is other - still is the same ocean.

WouId you say then, some demon

Laughs this terrible laughter, hurls this cry and call?

Who is this titan? Whose this imperious tyranny

In the guise of a play? Whose this ruthless embrace?

You know well this Rakshasa. Look well again,

The maids of Vraja recognise in Vraja His flute.

In vain you say the evil is man's creation;

In vain you say cruelty is titan's fancy.

This violent cruel play is His

Whom you call the God of Kindness, the God of Love. 

 Why does he do so, why does he revel in this violent battle, ―

 

When we see good in evil in the creation,

In cruelty kindness, then there is liberation.

All feelings break down, all sins die,

Free dweller in infinity moves the soul.

None belongs to none, everyone is His,

In the flow of life and death the world play moves on ceaseless.

 

The master of the play, the master of Energy,

                                            the Supreme God in the Universe

He is one with the infinite Consciousness,

                                                             vibrating with Delight.