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(This
poem is purely a play of the
imaginative, a poetic reconstruction of
the central idea only of
Mahatmahood.)
The
seven mountains and the seven seas
Surround
me. Over me the eightfold Sun
Blazing
with various colours - green
and blue,
Scarlet
and rose, violet and gold and white,
And
the dark disk that rides in the mortal cave –
Looks
down on me in flame. Below spread wide
The
worlds of the immortals, tier on tier
Like
a great mountain climbing to the skies,
And
on their summit Shiva dwells. Of old
My
doings were familiar with the earth,
The
mortals over whom I hold control
Were
then my fellows. But I followed not
The
usual path, the common thoughts of men.
A
thirst of knowledge and a sense of power,
A
passion of divine beneficence
Pursued
me through a hundred lives. I rose
From
birth to birth, until I reached the peak
Of
human knowledge, then in Bharat born,
I,
Kuthumi, the Kshatriya, the adept,
The
mighty Yogin of Dwaipayan’s school,
ToVyasa
came, our great original sage.
He
looked upon me with the eyes that see
And
smiled august and awful. “Kuthumi,”
He
cried, “now gather back what thou hast earned
In
many lives, remember all thy past,
Cease
from thy round of human births, resume
The
eightfold powers that make a man as
God.
Then
come again and learn thy grandiose work,
For
thou art of the souls to death denied.”
I
went into the mountains by the sea
That
thunders pitilessly from night to morn,
And
sung to by that rude relentless sound
Amidst
the cries of beasts, the howl of winds,
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Surrounded
by the gnashing demon hordes,
I
did the Hathayoga in three days,
Which
men with anguish through ten lives effect,
Not
that now practised by earth’s feeble race,
But
that which Ravan knew in Lanka, Dhruv
Fulfilled,
Hiranyakashipu performed,
The
Yoga of the old Lemurian Kings.
I
felt the strength of Titans in my veins,
The
joy of Gods, the pride of Siddhas. Tall
And
mighty like a striding God I came
To
Vyasa; but he shook his dense piled locks,
Denying
me; “Thou art not pure,” he cried.
I
went in anger to Himaloy’s peaks
And
on the highest in the breathless snow
Sat
dumb for many years. Then knowledge came
Streaming
upon me and the hills around
Shook
with the feet of the descending power.
I
did the Rajayoga in three days,
Which
men with care and accuracy minute
Ceaselessly
follow for an age in vain-
Not
Kali’s Rajayoga, but the means
Of
perfect knowledge, purity and force
Bali
the Titan learned and gave to men,
The
Yoga of the old Atlantic Kings.
I
came to Vyasa, shining like a sun.
He
smiled and said, “Now seek the world’s Great Soul,
Sri
Krishna, where he lives on earth concealed,
Give
up to him all that thou know’st and hast;
For
thou art he, elect from mortal men
To
guard the knowledge, yet an easy task
While
the third age preserves man’s godlike form.
But
when thou seest the iron Kali come
And
he from Dwarca leaves the Earth, know then
The
time of trial, help endangered men,
Preserve
the knowledge that preserves the world,
Until
Sri Krishna utterly returns.
Then
art thou from thy mighty work released
Into
the worlds of bliss for endless years
To
rest, until another aeon comes,
When
of the seven Rishis thou art one.”
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I
sent my knowledge forth across the
land.
It
found him not in Bharat’s princely halls,
In
quiet asrams, nor in temples pure,
Nor
where the wealthy traffickers resort –
Brahmin
nor Kshatriya body housed the Lord,
Vaisya
nor Sudra nor outcaste. At length
To
a bare hut on a wild mountain’s verge
Led
by the star I came. A hermit mad
Of
the wild Abhirs, who sat dumbed or laughed
And
ran and leaped and danced upon the hills
But
told the reason of his joy to none,
In
him I saw the Lord, behind the man
Perceived
the spirit that contains the world.
I
fell before him, but he leapt and ran
And
smote me with his foot and out of me
All
knowledge, all desire, all strength was gone
Into
its source. I sat an infant child.
He
laughed aloud and said, “Take back thy gifts,
O
beggar!” and went leaping down the slope.
Then
full of light and strength and bliss I soared
Beyond
the spheres, above the mighty Gods
And
left my human body on the snows.
And
others gathered to me, more or less
In
puissance to assist, but mine the charge
By
Vishnu given. I gather knowledge here,
Then
to my human frame awhile descend
And
walk mid men, choosing my instruments,
Testing,
rejecting and confirming souls –
Vessels
of the Spirit; for the golden age
In
Kali comes, the iron lined with gold,
The
Yoga shall be given back to men,
The
sects shall cease, the grim debates die out
And
atheism perish from the Earth,
Blasted
with knowledge; love and brotherhood
And
wisdom repossess Sri Krishna’s world.
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