Selected Poems Read online

15

  A golden trident of Śiva glitters,

  A distant temple-lantern glimmers.

  A marble road gleams in the shade,

  It is sprinkled with fallen bakul-flowers.

  Rows of roofs lurk amidst groves,

  20

  At the sight, my traveller’s heart quivers.

  A distant temple-lantern glimmers.

  From the king’s far palace the breeze brings a melody,

  It floats through the sky, a song in rāg Pūrvī.

  The fading scene draws me on –

  25

  I feel a strange detached melancholy.

  Travel and exile lose their appeal,

  Impossible hopes no longer call me.

  The sky resounds with rāg Pūrvī.

  On the forest, on the palace, night is descending –

  30

  It is too late for further sailing.

  All that I need is a place for my head,

  And I’ll end this life of buying and selling.

  As she winds her way she keeps her eyes low,

  The girl with the jar at her hip, overflowing.

  35

  These steps shall be my mooring.

  On the Edge of the Sea

  The fierce pinching cold of a winter night, crickets chattering,

  The city asleep, nobody moving in the house, lamps out.

  I was sunk in deep comfortable slumber, limbs stretched at ease,

  My bedding enfolding me with soothing warmth like a lover.

  5

  It was then that I heard someone calling my name from outside –

  My sleep was suddenly broken and I sat up in terror.

  The sound struck me to the core like a piercing sharpened arrow –

  Sweat broke out on my forehead and my body turned to gooseflesh.

  I threw off the covers, left my bed, scarcely clad as I was –

  10

  With heart thudding I opened the door and stood looking outside.

  From the burning-ground by the river came the howl of jackals,

  From above me the shriek of some night-bird passing overhead.

  Before the door I saw a woman sitting on a black horse,

  Veiled, utterly motionless like an image in a picture.

  15

  Another horse stood beside them, with its tail touching the earth,

  Its body dark grey as if made of smoke from the burning-ground.

  No movement at all in the horse, but it eyed me sideways –

  I was quaking and trembling all over my body with dread.

  In the yellowish sky the half-moon looked frosted and weary,

  20

  The old and leafless fig-tree near me was shivering with cold.

  Then the veiled woman raised her hand and beckoned me silently –

  As if under a spell, in a trance, I mounted the grey horse.

  The horse set off like lightning, I could only look back briėfly –

  My house seemed unreal and tenuous like a puff of vapour.

  25

  Horror and anguish were squeezing my heart, I felt tears rising,

  But some harsh power in my throat kept pressing them down again.

  On each side of the road stood lines of houses with doors shut fast –

  I thought of the men and women inside them in their warm beds.

  The empty road seemed painted on a land without life or sound –

  30

  At the gateway of the palace two watchmen were slumped in sleep.

  No noise at all except now and then dogs distantly barking,

  Or the boom of the bell in the palace-tower striking the hours.

  Road without end, night without end, places never seen before –

  It was like an amazing dream, there was no meaning in it.

  35

  I cannot remember what I saw, everything was confused –

  The horses galloped on and on like arrows aimed at nowhere.

  Their hoofs made no noise as they fell and they raised no trail of dust,

  There seemed no solid ground anywhere, only lines across mist.

  Sometimes we passed places that were familiar for a moment –

  40

  But instantly the road would swerve off again I knew not where.

  I felt I saw clouds, I felt I saw birds, and tender green leaves,

  But I could not distinguish clearly anything that I saw.

  Were they palaces on one side of me, or huge roots of trees,

  Or were they only my mind’s fantasies forming in the sky?

  45

  Sometimes I noticed the woman again, caught sight of her veil –

  Her cruel silent manner as she rode brought panic to my heart.

  In my fear I forgot the names of all gods, my tongue was tied –

  The wind roared in my ears and the horses galloped and galloped.

  The moon descended beneath the horizon before night’s end,

  50

  But in the sleepy eyes of the east there was a bloodshot glow.

  The horses drew up on an empty sandy beach by the sea,

  In the black rocks in front of us I saw the mouth of a cave.

  I heard no noise of waves from the sea, no dawn-birds were singing,

  There was no delicate morning breeze wafting the scent of woods.

  55

  The veiled woman alighted from her horse and I did the same –

  I followed her through the darkly yawning entrance of the cave.

  Inside was a magnificent carved chamber with rock pillars,

  There were tiers of brilliant lanterns swinging on golden chains.

  The stone walls of the chamber had been carved into images –

  60

  Marvellous birds and women, leaves and creepers intertwining.

  In the middle hung a canopy with pearl-studded tassels –

  Beneath it was a jewelled bed spread with immaculate linen.

  Incense was rising from censers on either side of the bed,

  At the corners were wonderful statues of women on lions.

  65

  There were no people, no guards, I saw no attendants or maids.

  The height of the cavern magnified the slightest sound vastly.

  The woman sat down softly on the bed, her face still covered –

  With her finger she signalled me to come and sit beside her.

  I was freezing all over and my heart was quaking wildly –

  70

  Fear had begun to play a terrifying tune in my veins.

  Suddenly there were flutes and vīās sounding all around us,

  Showers of flower-dust were cascading down on to our heads,

  The rows of suspended lanterns flared into double brightness –

  I heard the woman laugh behind her veil, a sweet high-pitched laugh.

  75

  It echoed and resounded in that huge and empty chamber –

  It jolted my heart anew and I clasped my hands and pleaded,

  ‘I am but a guest from another place, please do not mock me –

  Who are you, why are you cruel and silent, where have you brought me?’

  Immediately the woman struck the ground with a golden stick

  80

  And clouds and clouds of smoky incense darkened the carved chamber.

  There arose a tumult of conches and ululating cries –

  An ancient Brahmin entered with ritual grasses in his hand.

  An escort of forest-women had formed two lines behind him –

  Some carried garlands, some fans, some vessels of holy water.

  85

  The Brahmin seated himself and the women stood in silence

  While he made calculations on the ground with a piece of chalk,

  Silently drawing wheels and circles and a network of lines.

  When he had finished he announced that the time was auspicious.

  Then the veiled woman got up from the bed with her
head held low,

  90

  I too rose and stood beside her as if driven by magic.

  The unspeaking forest-women made a circle around us,

  They showered grains of puffed rice and flower-petals on our heads.

  The priest gave us both his blessing and went on reciting mantras –

  I could not follow anything he said, I waited spellbound.

  95

  My unknown bride pledged herself to me mutely and I shuddered,

  My hand was turned to ice by the touch of her warm supple hand.

  The old Brahmin left slowly followed by the women in lines –

  They carried the ritual objects on their heads or on their hips.

  Only one of them, lamp in hand, stayed to show us where to go.

  100

  Together we walked behind her, none of us speaking a word.

  We passed through a succession of long dark halls that frightened me,

  Suddenly I realized that a door had opened before us –

  How can I describe the overwhelming room that we entered?

  Its variety of coloured lights, flowers of every kind,

  105

  Garments laid out for us, studded with gold and silver and gems.

  On a jewelled dais was a bed, flower-strewn as in a dream.

  My bride seated herself on the bed with her feet on a stool.

  I said, ‘I see all of this, but I still have not seen your face.’

  Hundreds of bantering voices began to laugh from all sides,

  110

  They exploded around us like hundreds of bursting fountains.

  Slowly, very slowly the veiled woman lifted up her arms

  And raised her veil, smiling a sweet smile at me but not speaking.

  When I saw her face I fell at her feet in astonishment –

  Tearfully I cried, ‘You, even here, my jīban–debatā!’

  115

  In that beautiful face, in that smile and those nectar-filled eyes

  Was the daemon who forever tricks me, makes me laugh and wee.

  The daemon whose constant games are the pains and joys of my life

  Had revealed its familiar face once again, in this unknown world.

  I kissed the woman’s pure soft lotus-feet in grief and wonder –

  120

  I could no longer restrain what I suffered and my tears streamed.

  A flute began to play beautiful music that pierced my heart.

  In that huge and deserted palace the woman laughed and laughed.

  Love’s Question

  And is this all true,

  My ever-loving friend?

  That the lightning-flash of the light in my eyes

  Makes the clouds in your heart explode and blaze.

  5

  Is this true?

  That my sweet lips are red as a blushing new bride,

  My ever-loving friend,

  Is this true?

  That a tree of paradise flowers within me,

  10

  That my footsteps ring like vinās beneath me,

  Is this true?

  That the night sheds drops of dew at the sight of me,

  That the dawn surrounds me with light from delight in me,

  Is this true?

  15

  That the touch of my hot cheek intoxicates the breeze,

  My ever-loving friend,

  Is this true?

  That daylight hides in the dark of my hair,

  That my arms hold life and death in their power,

  20

  Is this true?

  That the earth can be wrapped in the end of my sari,

  That my voice makes the world fall silent to hear me,

  Is this true?

  That the universe is nothing but me and what loves me,

  25

  My ever-loving friend,

  Is this true?

  That for me alone your love has been waiting

  Through worlds and ages awake and wandering,

  Is this true?

  30

  That my voice, eyes, lips have brought you relief,

  In a trice, from the cycle of life after life,

  Is this true?

  That you read on my soft forehead infinite Truth,

  My ever-loving friend,

  35

  Is this true?

  Snatched by the Gods

  The news has gradually spread round the villages –

  The Brahmin Maitra is going on a pilgrimage

  To the mouth of the Ganges to bathe. A party

  Of travelling-companions has assembled – old

  5

  And young, men and women; his two

  Boats are ready at the landing-stage.

  Mokadā, too, is eager for merit –

  She pleads, ‘Dear grandfather, let me come with you.’

  Her plaintive young widow’s eyes cannot see reason:

  10

  She entreats him, she is hard to resist. ‘There is no

  More room,’ says Maitra. ‘I implore you at your feet,’

  She replies, weeping – ‘I can find space

  For myself somewhere, in a corner.’ The Brahmin’s

  Mind softens, but he still hesitates

  15

  And asks, ‘But what of your little boy?’

  ‘Rākhāl?’ says Mokadā, ‘he can stay

  With his aunt. After he was born I was ill

  For a long time with puerperal fever, they despaired

  Of my life; Annadā took my baby

  20

  And suckled him along with her own – she gave him

  Such love that ever since then the boy

  Has preferred his aunt’s lap to mine. He is so

  Naughty, he listens to no one – if you try

  And tell him off his aunt comes

  25

  And draws him to her breast and weeps and cuddles him.

  He will be happier with her than with me.’

  Maitra gives in. Mokadā immediately

  Hurries to get ready – packs her things,

  Pays respects to her elders, floods

  30

  Her friends with tearful goodbyes. She returns

  To the landing-stage – but whom does she see there?

  Rākhāl, sitting calmly and happily

  On board the boat – he has run there ahead of her.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she cries. He answers,

  35

  ‘I’m going to the sea.’ ‘You’re going to the sea?’

  Says his mother, ‘You naughty, naughty boy,

  Come down at once.’ His look is determined,

  He says again, ‘I’m going to the sea.’

  She grabs his arm, but the more she pulls

  40

  The more he clings to the boat. In the end

  Maitra smiles, says tenderly, ‘Let him be,

  He can come along.’ His mother flares up –

  ‘All right, then, come,’ she snaps,

  ‘The sea can have you!’ The moment those words

  45

  Reach her own ears, her heart cries out,

  Repentance runs through it like an arrow; she clenches

  Her eyes and murmurs, ‘God, God’;

  She takes her son in her arms, covers him