Triveni Journal

1927 | 11,233,916 words

Triveni is a journal dedicated to ancient Indian culture, history, philosophy, art, spirituality, music and all sorts of literature. Triveni was founded at Madras in 1927 and since that time various authors have donated their creativity in the form of articles, covering many aspects of public life....

Journey to Light

Prof. K. R. Srinivasa Iyengar

I
(18 November, 1973)


Uneasy I woke up at half-past three, and I could not sleep again.
I must have dozed off for a little while, but a spectre shook me up.

It was a grim-faced messenger thrusting a letter I wouldn’t receive.

I got up to greet the awaited. dawn, and was tired I knew not why.

A narrow strip on the brink of unknown Time, I felt the siege of fear.

Now a Courier came in, and faltered as he conveyed the message.

There had to be a day when such fateful tidings could compel a shape.

Swaying between dismay and acceptance I felt the hard ground give way.

The news was like a sudden stab of pain, and the very cells rebelled.

The sharp wind passed, the shaken tree stood still, and equally returned.

A surface calm immense took possession, and a numbed vacancy reigned.

For an anguished term I communed within, and thoughts criss-crossed for the nonce.

Life and death and body and spirit and foreknowledge and fate’s decree!
Could none evade or checkmate the grim tread of immitigable Death?
But this dichotomy of life and non­-life cannot be right, nor final!

Life plays at co-existence with Death, and we’re living-dying at once.

Yet all life is not the same life, nor all cessation a stance of death.

There’s the weariness of fevered life, the emptiness, the finis.
But day ends and night comes when galaxies fill the expanses with light.

What do we know of the Avatar’s life, the Divine’s descent to earth?

Omnipresence consents, to be centered in compact space for a time.

But the Infinite is only housed, not imprisoned, in a body. ­
It was here but even now, and perhaps it’s both here and everywhere!

Yet these speculations sounded hollow, and I quietened the mind.


II
(19 November, 1973)

The air seemed sullen with an austere sadness, and slowly the queue moved on.

Those long darshan queues of the past, and this–a difference in the sameness.

There were no formal exchanges­–nor words of explanation or cheer.

But there was communion of sharing the deeper love and distress.

The hairpin movement was now heavy with memories and regrets.

The opportunities missed or mis­used, the subterfuges, the lies!

With spendthrift recklessness had we squandered the gifts of grace of past years.

And so we crept closer for one last tryst with the visible Divine.

During the hush of steady slow advance, the Flame-Word sustained our souls.

Around the last bend suddenly there glowed the gold of the Mystic Rose.

’twas a moment snatched from hurrying Time for Infinity’s repose.

The lie of death hid the supernal truth of imperishable Life.

She lay serene in pure Beneficence radiating Light and Love.

We werevouchsafed an ambrosial hour for a prayerful session.

Past, present, future–the apocalypse of avatarhood stood revealed.

Her Truth-Consciousiness held absolute sway o’er space and time–life and death.

Her contacts with temporal existence had been brief and far between.

Now the deceptive barriers had gone, but the limitless endured.

In that illusion of sunset-sunrise her lips parted, and she smiled.

The airs gently played on the rust­ling silks, and almost she seemed to breathe.

And we fondly thought her hand had risen in a gesture of blessing.

And still the stream unending of children–flowing and ebbing away.

Rivers and rivulets have sought the sea, now merged in ocean oneness.

The Infinite in atomic puissance had multiplied endlessly.

Then, now, hereafter–ever and always–her Grace Abounding rules all.

III
(20 November, 1973)

Yesterday had worn a cloak or brown or dark and night’s vigil was long.

From near and far people walked to Ashram evading usual sleep.

The elected spot on consecrated ground lay open to the view.

Some were rapt in thought, some were preparing the Receptacle to be.

Many were lined against the court­yard walls, their faces set and resigned.

And visitors sat row after row, and seemed wholly immobile.

The hundreds swelled into thousands, and still they came­–children, old and young.

The Service Tree spread its protec­tive shade, and sadhaks nestled under.

The Sun had risen high, and cameras were poised for instant action.

Several had found positions of vantage on gallery or terrace.

A few dignitaries came last with wreaths, and held themselves with patience.

Stray sounds were like leaves from o’erhanging trees falling on silent water.

Now the stillness profound seemed to deepen as the Casket came to sight.

Four on either side were the pall­bearers, and the Rosewood sailed to port.

That container of immortal remains was lowered into the vault.

The dual yet unified Consciousness was now joined in Nature’s base.

Five thousand pairs of eyes converged to view the Avatar’s Samadhi.

But this immersion of the source of Light was also its dispersal.

This centre of concentration ordains widest diffusion as well.

The descent of the supramental Light heralds heaven’s alchemy.

The unconscious and inconscient in league meet their final defeat here.

The mist and opaqueness are touch­ed with light, and matter feels spirit’s glow.

The promised transfiguration of life starts its realising phase.

The millions the Power had drawn to her feel filled by her and fulfilled.

A mystic light is lit in everyone, and they blaze into a Flame.

–From Sri Aurobindo’s Action

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