‘Bring Me Thy Failure’

K. RAMAKOTISWARA RAO

Of the Japanese armourer it is said that, as he fashions a sword and sharpens it, he sings a song. And according to the prevailing mood of the singer, the sword becomes a power for good or evil. If the spirit of a song can inform a blade of steel, why not an Editor's love his journal? I have loved Triveni with an impassioned and unalterable love, and every time a new number is sent out, I breathe a prayer that it may spread peace, joy and strength, and be the symbol of Beauty and Truth.

But prolonged and lonely fight against adversity weakens a man. At the end of five years I find myself a wreck in body and mind. I am thankful, however, that Triveni is alive; that the ‘Triple Stream’ never ceased to flow, albeit fitfully and like a thin rill in a sandy waste. I am reminded of Bhagiratha, Prince of Ayodhya. As the holy Ganges descended from heaven, it got entangled in the matted locks of the moon-crested Lord Shiva. The Prince did penance so that the stream might be let loose, to fertilise the world and quicken the illustrious dead of the Solar Race. His prayers were heard; so too are mine. The generosity of a group of friends,–among them the noblest in the land,–now enables me to release the life-giving waters of the Triveni and ensure an even flow.

It is an irony of life that while we strive and suffer to bring solace to one that is infinitely dear, the solace comes a trifle too late,–weeks and months after the loved one is beyond the need of solace. Six months ago, in the midst of poverty and trouble, when not a ray of hope pierced the encircling gloom, passed away my mother. For seven-and-thirty years she guarded me “as the eye-lid guards the eye.” She was a great admirer of the Mahabharata, and her one joy lay in listening to the marvellous Telugu verse of Nannaya and Tikkana. The conception of Shri Krishna as the Divine Charioteer appealed powerfully to her. As a devotee of the Lord, she prayed constantly that He might be the Charioteer of her son, and guide him as He guided Arjuna on the field of battle. In moments of utter loneliness and depression it looked as if the Charioteer had fallen asleep or let go His hold of the reins. But He is the Eternal Watcher, and a mother's prayers are the holiest of offerings at His feet. Those that suffer physical dissolution do not pass from us. Divested of the encumbrance of the flesh, they pour forth their love in million-fold intensity. That love is an abiding possession for me, and an inspiration in my humble work.

At the commencement of a new year of life for Triveni, I cannot forget what I owe to my esteemed chief, Mr. C. Jinarajadasa. In his loving presence, I have always felt purer and stronger. One morning, last year, when life seemed too oppressive, I met him in his beautiful room at Adyar and narrated my tale of woe. With unforgettable serenity he bade me cultivate a spirit of detachment–to work and not to worry about the result; and ended by reading to me the great passage from Edwin Arnold's The Song Celestial in which the Lord calls upon His devotees to “labour right for love of Me,” and admonishes them that “if in this thy faint heart fails, bring Me thy failure.” That was a great experience. Since then I have “laboured right for love of Him,” because I know He will accept even my failure.

Indeed, in a cause like this there is neither success nor failure. It is a continual striving after perfection: Success consists in unceasing pursuit of the Path, and the only failure that the idealist recognises is the failure to stand by Truth. Along the Path, my feet bled, my spirit was sore tired. Very often my brain was racked with the thought that the burden was far too heavy. It was like attempting the impossible. But always came an answering thought that, if the work is noble and unselfish, an unseen Power will lighten the burden; when my strength failed, I could draw on a reserve of energy. I recall what I said when the Journal was first launched: “May this votive offering prove acceptable to Him who is the source of the Triveni, the Triple Stream of Love, Wisdom and Power.”

Reprinted from Triveni, July-Aug., 1932