Part 4

The workman and his wife from the west country are busy digging to make bricks for the kiln. Their little daughter goes to the landing-place by the river; there she has no end of scouring and scrubbing of pots and pans. Her little brother, with shaven head and brown, naked, mud- covered limbs, follows after her and waits patiently on the high bank at her bidding. She goes back home with the full pitcher poised on her head, the shining brass pot in her left hand, holding the child with her right--she the tiny servant of her mother, grave with the weight of the household cares.

One day I saw this naked boy sitting with legs outstretched. In the water his sister sat rubbing a drinking-pot with a handful of earth, turning it round and round. Near by a soft-haired lamb stood gazing along the bank. It came close to where the boy sat and suddenly bleated aloud, and the child started up and screamed. His sister left off cleaning her pot and ran up. She took up her brother in one arm and the lamb in the other, and dividing her caresses between them bound in one bond of affection the offspring of beast and man.

78

It was in May. The sultry noon seemed endlessly long. The dry earth gaped with thirst in the heat. When I heard from the riverside a voice calling, "Come, my darling!" I shut my book and opened the window to look out. I saw a big buffalo with mud-stained hide, standing near the river with placid, patient eyes; and a youth, knee deep in water, calling it to its bath. I smiled amused and felt a touch of sweetness in my heart.

79

I often wonder where lie hidden the boundaries of recognition between man and the beast whose heart knows no spoken language. Through what primal paradise in a remote morning of creation ran the simple path by which their hearts visited each other. Those marks of their constant tread have not been effaced though their kinship has been long forgotten. Yet suddenly in some wordless music the dim memory wakes up and the beast gazes into the man's face with a tender trust, and the man looks down into its eyes with amused affection. It seems that the two friends meet masked and vaguely know each other through the disguise.

80

With a glance of your eyes you could plunder all the wealth of songs struck from poets' harps, fair woman! But for their praises you have no ear, therefore I come to praise you. You could humble at your feet the proudest heads in the world. But it is your loved ones, unknown to fame, whom you choose to worship, therefore I worship you. The perfection of your arms would add glory to kingly splendour with their touch. But you use them to sweep away the dust, and to make clean your humble home, therefore I am filled with awe.

81

Why do you whisper so faintly in my ears, O Death, my Death? When the flowers droop in the evening and cattle come back to their stalls, you stealthily come to my side and speak words that I do not understand. Is this how you must woo and win me with the opiate of drowsy murmur and cold kisses, O Death, my Death?

Will there be no proud ceremony for our wedding? Will you not tie up with a wreath your tawny coiled locks? Is there none to carry your banner before you, and will not the night be on fire with your red torch-lights, O Death, my Death?

Come with your conch-shells sounding, come in the sleepless night. Dress me with a crimson mantle, grasp my hand and take me. Let your chariot be ready at my door with your horses neighing impatiently. Raise my veil and look at my face proudly, O Death, my Death!

82

We are to play the game of death to-night, my bride and I. The night is black, the clouds in the sky are capricious, and the waves are raving at sea. We have left our bed of dreams, flung open the door and come out, my bride and I. We sit upon a swing, and the storm winds give us a wild push from behind. My bride starts up with fear and delight, she trembles and clings to my breast. Long have I served her tenderly. I made for her a bed of flowers and I closed the doors to shut out the rude light from her eyes. I kissed her gently on her lips and whispered softly in her ears till she half swooned in languor. She was lost in the endless mist of vague sweetness. She answered not to my touch, my songs failed to arouse her. To-night has come to us the call of the storm from the wild. My bride has shivered and stood up, she has clasped my hand and come out. Her hair is flying in the wind, her veil is fluttering, her garland rustles over her breast. The push of death has swung her into life. We are face to face and heart to heart, my bride and I.

83

She dwelt on the hillside by the edge of a maize-field, near the spring that flows in laughing rills through the solemn shadows of ancient trees. The women came there to fill their jars, and travellers would sit there to rest and talk. She worked and dreamed daily to the tune of the bubbling stream.

One evening the stranger came down from the cloud-hidden peak; his locks were tangled like drowsy snakes. We asked in wonder, "Who are you?" He answered not but sat by the garrulous stream and silently gazed at the hut where she dwelt. Our hearts quaked in fear and we came back home when it was night.

Next morning when the women came to fetch water at the spring by the _deodar_ trees, they found the doors open in her hut, but her voice was gone and where was her smiling face? The empty jar lay on the floor and her lamp had burnt itself out in the corner. No one knew where she had fled to before it was morning--and the stranger had gone.

In the month of May the sun grew strong and the snow melted, and we sat by the spring and wept. We wondered in our mind, "Is there a spring in the land where she has gone and where she can fill her vessel in these hot thirsty days?" And we asked each other in dismay, "Is there a land beyond these hills where we live?"

It was a summer night; the breeze blew from the south; and I sat in her deserted room where the lamp stood still unlit. When suddenly from before my eyes the hills vanished like curtains drawn aside. "Ah, it is she who comes. How are you, my child? Are you happy? But where can you shelter under this open sky? And, alas, our spring is not here to allay your thirst."

"Here is the same sky," she said, "only free from the fencing hills,--this is the same stream grown into a river,--the same earth widened into a plain." "Everything is here," I sighed, "only we are not." She smiled sadly and said, "You are in my heart." I woke up and heard the babbling of the stream and the rustling of the _deodars_ at night.

84

Over the green and yellow rice-fields sweep the shadows of the autumn clouds followed by the swift chasing sun. The bees forget to sip their honey; drunken with light they foolishly hover and hum. The ducks in the islands of the river clamour in joy for mere nothing. Let none go back home, brothers, this morning, let none go to work. Let us take the blue sky by storm and plunder space as we run. Laughter floats in the air like foam on the flood. Brothers, let us squander our morning in futile songs.

85

Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across an hundred years.

INDEX OF FIRST WORDS

No. A wandering madman was seeking the touchstone 66 Ah me, why did they build my house 4 Ah, poet, the evening draws near 2 Amidst the rush and roar of life 60 An unbelieving smile flits on your eyes 40 At midnight the would-be ascetic announced 75

Come as you are; do not loiter over your toilet 11 Come to us, youth, tell us truly 25

Day after day he comes and goes away 20 Do not go, my love, without asking my leave 34 Do not keep to yourself the secret of your heart, my friend 24

Free me from the bonds of your sweetness, my love 48

Hands cling to hands and eyes linger on eyes 16 Have mercy upon your servant, my queen 1 He whispered, "My love, raise your eyes" 36

I am restless 5 I asked nothing, only stood at the edge of the wood 13 I hold her hands and press her to my breast 49 I hunt for the golden stag 69 I long to speak the deepest words 41 I love you, beloved 33 I often wonder where lie hidden 79 I plucked your flower, O world 57 I remember a day in my childhood 70 I run as a musk-deer runs in the shadow of the forest 15 I spent my day on the scorching hot dust of the road 64 I try to weave a wreath all the morning 39 I was one among many women 56 I was walking by the road, I do not know why 14 If you would be busy and fill your pitcher, come 12 If you would have it so, I will end my singing 47 In the dusky path of a dream I went to seek the love 62 In the morning I cast my net into the sea 3 In the world's audience hall 74 Infinite wealth is not yours 73 Is that your call again 65 It was in May 78 It was mid-day when you want away 55

Lest I should know you too easily, you play with me 35 Let your work be, bride 10 Love, my heart longs day and night 50

My heart, the bird of the wilderness 31 My love, once upon a time your poet launched a great epic 38

No, my friends, I shall never be an ascetic 43 None lives for ever, brother 68

O mad, superbly drunk 42 O mother, the young Prince is to pass by our door 7 O woman, you are not merely the handiwork of God 59 One morning in the flower garden a blind girl came 58 Over the green and yellow rice-fields 84

Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet 61

Reverend sir, forgive this pair of sinners 44

She dwelt on the hillside 83 Speak to me, my love 29

Tell me if this be all true, my lover 32 The day is not yet done, the fair is not over 71 The fair was on before the temple 76 The tame bird was in a cage 6 The workman and his wife from the west country 77 The yellow bird sings in their tree 17 Then finish the last song and let us leave 51 Though the evening comes with slow steps 67 To the guests that must go bid God's speed 45 Traveller, must you go 63 Trust love even if it brings sorrow 27

We are to play the game of death to-night 82 What comes from your willing hands I take 26 When I go alone at night to my love-tryst 9 When she passed by me with quick steps 22 When the lamp went out by my bed 8 When the two sisters go to fetch water 18 Where do you hurry with your basket 54 Who are you, reader, reading my poems 85 Why did he choose to come to my door 21 Why did the lamp go out 52 Why do you put me to shame with a look 53 Why do you sit there and jingle your bracelets 23 Why do you whisper so faintly in my ears 81 With a glance of your eyes you could plunder 80 With days of hard travail I raised a temple 72 Would you put your wreath of fresh flowers on my neck 37

You are the evening cloud floating in the sky of my dreams 30 You left me and went on your way 46 You walked by the riverside path 19 Your questioning eyes are sad 28