SPIRITUAL VISION

        POEMS  AND  POETS

                       38. SPIRITUAL VISION

A  great poet makes us see ordinary things in extraordinary light. But the greatest is one who can make us see eternity in the passing, universe in a grain of sand. Poets of some periods seem to be seized by some dominant feeling or sense or vision, which they impart to the whole age and society. In India we speak of 'ashtadikgajas' or 'navaratnas' adorning the court of some fortunate king. In English poetry we have periods like Elizabethan, Romantic, Victorian when the poets were motivated by some one major idea or theme or force.

The Victorian age was marked by high intellectualism, represented by Tennyson and Browning. But the age preceding was one of  "unaccountable spiritual impulse, insistent but vague in some, strong but limited in one or two, splendid and supreme in its rare moments of vision and clarity" ( Sri Aurobindo). The poets then sought to pierce the veil of appearances and bring before us the spiritual truth behind. Their language attained strange heights, even when talking of common things. Wordsworth and Coleridge, Blake and Byron,  Keats and Shelley represent such a moment. Not all of them attained the same great height or kept it for long but the glimpse they got was sufficient to power them, and to provide us aesthetic pleasure and spiritual stimulation. Some like Wordsworth wrote too much and dissipated their energy, like Browning later; some like  Keats and Shelley died young, before they could ascend their full height, but what they left behind is remarkable.

Let us consider two poems of Shelley.

 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY

The fountains mingle with the river,

     And the river with the ocean;

The winds of heaven mix for ever,

     With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

     All things by law divine

In one another's being mingle:-

     Why not I with thine?

See! the mountains kiss the heaven,

    And the waves clasp one another;

No sister flower would be forgiven

     If it disdained ts brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth,

     And the moonbeams kiss the sea:-

What are these kissings worth,

    If thou kiss not me?

Apparently a love poem, but the images invoked make it sublime. And it brings to us the basic fact of the universe: all things are connected!

Shelley talks of the mountains kissing the heaven. Our own Majrooh Sultanpuri has another image of mountain- of mountain sleeping on the lap of clouds!

Sare haseen nazaare, sapnon mein kho gaye

Sar rakhke  aasman pe, parbat bhi so gaye!

All the beautiful scenes around me, have vanished in my dreams

And the mountain has also gone to sleep,

keeping its head on the sky!

THE CLOUD

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,

     From the seas and streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid

     In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken

     The sweets buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mothers' breast,

     As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the  lasting hail,

     And whiten the green plains under,

And then again I dissolve it in rain,

     And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I sift the snow on the mountains below,

     And their great pines grew aghast;

And all the night 'tis my pillow white

     While I sleep in the arms of the blast,

Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,

     Lightning my pilot sits;

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,

    It struggles and howls at fits;

Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,

    This pilot is guiding me

Lured by the love of the genii that move

     In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills,and the crags, and the hills,

     Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain, or stream,

     The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,

     Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

    And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

     When the morning star shines dead;

As on the jag of a mountain crag,

     Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

     In the light of its golden wings,

And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

    Its ardours of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall

    From the depths of heaven above,

With wings folded I rest,on my aery nest,

     As still as a brooding dove.

That orbed maiden with white fire laden,

     Whom mortals call the Moon,

Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,

     By the midnight breezes strewn;

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

     Which only the angels hear,

May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof

     The stars peep behind her and peer;

And i laugh to see them whirl and flee,

     Like a swarm of golden bees,

When I widen the rent in my mind-built tent,

     Till calm the rivers,lakes, and seas,

Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,

     Are each paved with moon and these.

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,

     And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;

The volcanoes are dim,and the stars reel and swim,

     When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

     Over a torrent sea,

Sun-beam proof, I hang like a roof,

     The mountains its columns be.

The triumphal arch through which I march,

     With hurricane, fire, and snow,

When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,

     Is the million-coloured bow;

The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,

     Whilst the moist Earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,

     And the nursling of the Sky;

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

     I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a strain,

     The pavilion of Heaven is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams

     Build up the blue dome of air,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

     And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

     I arise and unbuild it again.

This is a long poem but as we say, every expression in it is worth  a lakh of rupees- 'akshara laksham'.  Obviously it is about the cloud, but the cloud here stands for something more fundamental. The poem speaks of rain, moisture, hail snow, etc that the cloud causes. But it also shows how everything  in nature is connected, inter-linked and interdependent. But more than this, it shows how nature is an unending cycle, where the form keeps changing but the substance remains.  It is here that he comes close to our own philosophy. According to Hindus, while nature constantly changes, there is no destruction as such, in the sense of something going out of existence, as there is no 'creation' in the sense of something coming out of nothing. What is normally called creation is just'manifestation'- coming out of a hiding, so to say; at the end of the cycle, things again go out of manifestation: involution, preceding evolution. Srishti and pralaya are eternal cycles of manifestation- continuous evolution, change, transformation, involution and so on, again and again. This is what Shelley is conveying here: the continuous metamorphosis or transformation of nature. Our very words-jagat, srishti,  pralaya indicate this unending cycle.

It is also remarkable that Shelley does not regard the phenomena of nature as inanimate, but endows them with personalities. In this, he has recovered the soul of all the ancient religions of the world for whom forces of nature were endowed with divine attributes or personalities."I change, but I cannot die"- what supreme Wisdom is this! "I silently laugh at my own cenotaph- I arise and unbuild it again": how beautifully the self-renewing power or activity of nature is revealed here! Nobody can write "Finis" to Nature, though its forms will keep changing. This is the truth revealed ( or hidden?) by the dancing form of Nataraja!

The figure of cloud is very dear to us. At the conclusion of Sandhya upasana, everyone utters a prayer:

Aakaasaat patitam toyam, yatha gaccahti sagaram,

Sarva deva namaskaraha: Keshavam pratigachchati.

Just as the rain water caused by the cloud  falling anywhere will ultimately have to reach the sea, so do our prayers, to whichever deity  addressed, reach the Supreme. 

The cloud is formed by the sea waters evaporating, and it comes back to the earth and sea as rain, river and water!

This poem by Shelley is one of the truly metaphysical poems in the English language. Sri Aurobindo reserved his high praise for Shelley:

'The spiritual truth which had possession of Shelley's mind was higher than anything opened to the vision of any of his contemporaries, and its power and reality which was the essence of  his inspiration can only be grasped, when it is known and lived, by a changed and future humanity. Light, Love, Liberty are the three godheads in whose presence his pure and radiant spirit lived; but celestial light, a celestial love , a celestial liberty."

                                                       From: The Future Poetry, part I, chap XVIII
                                                        Sri Aurobindo Ashram, 2000.

     

     

Poets and Philosophy-3

                                           POEMS AND POETS

                      23.Poets and Philosophy-3

Two problems confront us .
1. Does any lofty thought become a 'philosophy'?
2. Since a poet speaks through many characters and voices, which of them can be taken as expressing the poet's own mind?

Consider the following scene from KING LEAR: IV.1

GLOUCESTER

                            ............. Full Oft 'tis seen,
                            Our means secure us and our mere defects
                            Prove our commodities.

EDGAR
                  
                           (aside) And worse I may yet be. The worst is not
                            So long as we can say, "This is the worst".

GLOUCESTER

                          I'  th'  last night's storm I such a fellow saw
                          Which made me think a man a worm.........
                          As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods.
                          They kill us for their sport.


Shakespeare has peppered this small space with at least three ideas,which  may claim to be 'philosophy'.

• having something ( being well to to) spoils us while not having it often turns out to be advantageous. ( Remember Thomas Gray said something similar: the poor lot of some not just 'circumscribed their growing virtues' but 'their crimes confined' )
• So long as we are sensible enough to say we are facing the worst, it is not the worst: it could be worse, for we have not seen the last yet.
• Man is no more significant than a worm. The gods just use us for their amusement, as schoolboys play around with flies, inflicting cruelty and killing them.

Do these become philosophies?

All these are based on experience of specific circumstances, but do  they remain valid across time and space? I think this should be a standard test of true philosophy- whether it is universal.

Refraining from doing bad- due to our inability - cannot be a virtue. I do not deal with  a person physically  abusing me because I am not physically strong enough - can I claim that I am a pacifist,and non-violent?

 It is only at the end of a life-time that one can say that one has seen the worst. As the Hindi poet Shakeel Badayuni wrote:

ive Hoga faisla Manzil ki Kismat Ka Khel

ie only on reaching the destination can one say what has been the destiny! So long as we have not seen the end, we cannot say what it is!

For another, Sahir Ludhianvi said: Dum hai gam nahi BhaKi TOH!

ie so long as one is alive, one need not give up hope totally.

As yet another, Majrooh Sultanpuri Said: Alta rahe toh Aadmi jo mil Jaaye Haar khazaana.

ie if a man keeps going, he will attain all goals.( how can he stop and say he has seen the worst?)

As for man being dealt with arbitrarily by the gods- this is the very stuff of Greek Tragedy and so can be considered some sort of philosophy. Thomas Hardy's novels also adopt such a view. Hardy wrote towards the end of Tess about "the President of the Immortals" having "ended his sport with Tess"- heart-wrenching words,really, but authentic Greek. Yes, it represents a basic point of view about life. But is it a sure guide to life for every one?

I am reminded of the controversy in early Management thought about the nature of man. One theory said that man inherently resented work and had to be forced.. Another said the opposite: that man liked  work as naturally as play, and had only to be suitably motivated ie rewarded. Then a third came along in different versions and compromised both. Now, of course management has become too technical and mechanical to bother about theories- so long as you can manipulate man, anything would do!  Abraham Maslow and his kind are an exception- man has to exceed himself, resulting in Self-Actualisation. Each of these can be taken as a 'philosophy' of management, but do they become philosophy of life?

I feel they are not universal enough.

So, it is difficult to say if any of these Shakespearean lines can be taken as philosophy- especially, his!

Now, take a poet like Tennyson. Starting as a Romantic ( but not of the Wordsworth type), he turned more conventional or got "institutionalised" later on. The most important influence in his life was  his friend Arthur Henry Hallam. Hallam affected Tennyson strangely- both when he lived,and after he died early,unexpectedly at just 22. He is reported to have  directly inspired the Romantic elements of Tennyson's early poetry . But after his death, which affected Tennyson profoundly, his poetry is said to have become somewhat sad or elegiac. What sort of philosophy do we expect from him?

I take these lines from 'Ulysses'.

TENNYSON:  Ulysses

I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough

Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades

For ever and for ever when I move.

We are all shaped by all that we have seen and absorbed in life. Yet, no matter how long and how varied that life has been, can any one claim he has seen all and 'known or understood' life? The untravelled and unseen part seems ever larger, and there  seems to be no border in sight! Life is a strange landscape!

How dull it is to pause,to make an end,

To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

As though to breathe were life!

.............you and I are old;

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

....................................Come,my friends,

'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

.......

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive , to seek, to find, and not to yield.

What do we make of this?

In Tennyson's own Victorian Age, people had no doubts at all:

the poem reflected the spirit of the age- ever striving forward. However, our age is different: nothing should be simple,nothing straight! So, critics and scholars have read all sorts of meanings in to the poem, and given it varied interpretations.

 I distrust critics and academics.. I go by more substantial reason. There are two statements by Tennyson himself which merit attention:

1.In his Memoir, Tennyson said:

"Ulysses was written soon after Arthur Hallam's death, and gave my feeling about the need of going forward, and braving the struggle of life."

2.Once, speaking of In Memoriam  to James Knowles, the architect who built his house and who remained on good terms with him for twenty five years, Tennyson said:

"There is more about myself in 'Ulysses', which was written under the sense of loss and all that had gone by, but that still life must be fought out to the end."

This makes two things clear to us:

• this poem reflects largely Tennyson's own mind and convictions
• that we must struggle  and move forward in life , in spite of all losses and adversities.

The key to the whole structure is, in my view, found in this line:

"As tho' to breathe were life".

Life is not mere physical existence . You have to be up and moving, striving to ever new heights, reaching ever farther horizons,' to follow knowledge like a sinking star, beyond the utmost bound of human thought'. We have rubbed shoulder with the gods; should we not  do some noble work of note, worthy of that association? Should we just rest,rust and fade away? Should we simply vegetate and die?

Shakespeare says in Hamlet:


"What  is a man,
If his chief good and market of his time
Be but to sleep and  feed ?A beast,no more.
He that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unused."


I think the message is clear: do not rest on your laurels. Do not just retire, to be overtaken by senility, and succumb to death "which closes all". Age may weaken the body, but the heart and will are made strong,with which we have to seek newer fields, ever striving, never yielding. A loftier philosophy cannot be stated in plainer terms.

After his new house was completed, Tennyson was standing with Knowles and remarked to him that he (Knowles) would outlive him , and that the house would last five hundred years. Knowles replied that the English language would last longer. I would only add: this philosophy of Tennyson would last for ever,or it is no philosophy, and  this,no poem.


Note
There is one feature in the poem which particularly appeals to me  as a Hindu. This is the reference to his  blameless son Telemachus. Ulysses is about to go on a fresh voyage. He leaves the ruling to his  son, whom he loves and in whom he has the  confidence that he, centered on his common duties and by his prudence, will subdue the rugged people, and make them useful and good ( a task in which he himself probably failed, as hinted in the first few lines).He will also be tender, and pay proper adoration to the household gods!
Hindu dharma says that a householder should proceed to the forest at the appropriate time to pursue spiritual knowledge, when his son should take over the household obligations, including worshipping the household gods! I am so touched.

Business of Life

Poems and Poets

12. Business of Life

What is life and how do we go about it?

Well sir, this is what philosophers have  been breaking their heads on all these centuries and I raise this as if I have found an answer! This is the question all religions are trying to address, and so far have only succeeded in quarrelling among themselves . And philosophy and theology together have ensured that no one will be certain of any thing any more! To which outcome, our great scientists have added their might.

Most of us ordinary people want to be correct both in the eyes of God and the ways of the world. Only, we do not know how to go about it. The world is such a curious place, often what 'good' we try to do produces an unintended effect, as when a 'poor' man we help goes out to pick some body's pocket with renewed energy, or gets another dose of his drink or drug.

There is a curios story about this. Vivekananda's father was a prosperous lawyer and was given to helping people generously. Observers told him that the beneficiaries often used the money to buy their pegs. But the lawyer replied that after all the world was such a miserable place, and how could we fault them if the poor fellows went out to have a drink to drown their sorrows! No wonder, a Vivekananda was born his son!

This is such an ideal situation for a song in our Hindi movies! So we have one. A drunkard sings:

Lyrics by Shailendra,1957

Zindagi kwab hai,

kwab mein jhoot kya,

aur bhala sach hai kya?

          Sab sach hai!

Dilne hamse  jo kaha,

hamne vaisa hi kiya;

phir kabhie pursat mein sochenge

bura tha ya bhala.

Ek pyali bhar ke main ne 

gham ke maare dil ko di;

zahar ne maara zahar ko

murde mein phir jaan aagayi.

Ek katra mai ka jab

patthar ke hoton par pada;

uske sene me bhi dil dhadka

ye usne bhi kaha-

           sab jhoot hai!

    zindagi kwab hai.

Free rendering of meaning:

Life is a dream. What is false or true in a dream? Everything is true!

I acted as my heart dictated. Later on , when we get time, let us think about whether it was bad or good.

I took a cup, and countered with it  the sorrow of my heart. One poison has removed the other. The man got back his life.

If a drop of the drink falls on lips of stone, even that stony heart will throb! And it will say-

everything is false!

Well now, don't ask me how a drunkard can utter such philosophy! This is where we need "willing suspension of disbelief" so necessary to appreciate poetry, as Keats laid  down. Or maybe the old adage is true: When the ale is in, the wit is out! 

Of course, most of us  must have heard about Master Zhuangzi and his dream of the butterfly: whether it was Zhuangzi dreaming that he was a butterfly, or the butterfly dreaming that it was Zhuangzi? What is Reality?

The question of life is of course serious business. That is why we are all here in this world- to solve the puzzle practically. In the Mahabharata, we have some nice situations. At the beginning of the war, Arjuna arrives at the battlefield ready to fight, but the moment he realises that those ranged against him are all his kinsmen and friends, he develops distaste for the war and doubts his own understanding of right conduct. He turns to his friend and charioteer Krishna for an answer. The Gita is the result. Krishna teaches him that one is the eternal spirit and not  the body, one has to do one's duty, without identifying oneself with the body or ego,  surrendering to God completely and leaving the results to  Him. Arjuna carries out his duty. Years later, he forgets the lessons and asks Krishna again; Krishna chides him for being such a poor student that he forgot an important lesson and does not repeat it!

Yudhisthira, his elder brother and the King, is considered an embodiment of Dharma- he is the son of the god of Dharma. He never has a doubt about dharma- it is in fact in pursuance of his conception of kingly dharma that he even plays the game of dice and loses the kingdom! Any way, they win the war and he is crowned king. His doubts start then! He is troubled that the war was fought on his account, and so many lives were lost; was it after all righteous? Was it not mere selfishness? He loses sleep.

Krishna who knew his psychology directs him to Bhishma , lying injured awaiting an auspicious time to give up the body, to  seek clarification on dharma as Bhishma was considered an authority. Bhishma launches on a long discourse on all types of dharmas imaginable. Now, after listening, Yudhisthira gets confused and tells Bhishma:

"Enough of this. Tell me decidedly that one dharma which will save me." Bhishma then advises him to surrender to God and take refuge in Him as the supreme dharma.

Thus, for the believers, there is no doubt. Fear of the Lord is the beginning, and end, of all wisdom.

But even such people, what should they do in practice?

There are only two aspects of the problem: how to relate to oneself, and how to relate to others. The second question is important for, humans have to live in society; the 'others' will include the whole of nature, for we are not alone here on earth. But this cannot be solved unless the first question is solved: what are we? Socrates prescribed: Know Thyself!

A whole forest of ethical and moral principles have been raised, but if we can have our way through all this, there are just two simple steps:

1. Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you. Walk in their moccasins to know how they feel, as the Native Americans say.

2. What goes round, comes round. What you do to others comes back to you. So any good or bad you do, you are ultimately doing to yourself!

Remember, every action elicits an apposite reaction. This is broadly called Karma. Edgar Cayce, the 20th century American Seer identified it as the basic law of human conduct.

One can follow any philosophy or theology. One can believe in any God or any number of gods and goddesses. One can chant or sing anything. One can dress any which way one likes. When it comes to behaviour these are the only two laws of the universe. 

The world is a mixture of good and evil, pleasure and pain. The God who created the lamb also created the tiger, as Blake remarked. Those who believe in a merciful God or benevolent Nature are free to do so. Only, they should not tell " in mournful numbers, that life is but an empty dream". Or say " life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing".

The human brain cannot solve the mystery of Creation. Better to accept our limitation and begin from there.

Philosophy has not answered any questions yet. It has not solved any problems. Theology has not solved the mystery of the world or clarified its contradictions. But it has given us practical codes of conduct, which are, on the whole beneficial. If man failed to keep the law, law is not at fault. "Those who take the sword shall perish by the sword"- this is a basic Biblical lesson. But if those people who are avowedly followers of the Book disregarded it and engaged in two World wars, or even now indulge in selling arms to other countries, are they fulfilling the two basic laws of life?

What is the world? What is life? Let us see how some poets look at it. We begin with the Bard.

Shakespeare

"I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,

          A stage where every man must play a part "

                                (The Merchant of Venice)

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.

Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lined,

With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slippered pantaloon

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide,

For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,

Turning again towards childish treble, pipes

And whistles in the sound. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

                     (As You Like It, II.7)

The world is a stage, we are to play our parts. But here, Shakespeare does not tell us about the nature of the world, but only the 7 ways a person adapts or reacts to it. Of course some parts are more pleasant or agreeable than the others. Each actor has to prepare for his role to play it well.

We Hindus had our idea of the 4 aims, 4 Varnas (occupations), and 4 Ashramas ( stations)  of life. This is not the place to go into details.

Here is a poem, author unknown, which describes life as a game.

Life's A Game

This life is but a game of cards,

Which everyone must learn;

Each shuffles, cuts, and deals the deck,

And then a trump does turn;

Some show up a high card,

While others make it low,

And many turn no cards at all-

In fact they cannot show.

When hearts are up, we play for love,

And pleasure rules the hour;

Each day goes pleasantly along,

In sunshine's rosy bower.

When diamonds chance to crown the pack,

That's when men stake their gold,

And thousands then are lost and won,

By gamblers young and old.

When clubs are trump look out for war,

On ocean and on land,

For bloody deeds are often done

When clubs are held in hand.

At last turns up the darkened spade,

Held by the toiling slave,

And a spade will turn up trump at last

And dig each player's grave.

Describing life as a game of cards points to a great mystery:

How do  we explain how a player gets what he happens to get? Is it Chance? Is it the work of God? This question cannot be answered at all. That each one begins with a different set of cards ab initio is the given. We have to live with it.

Asia (Hindus, Buddhists and Jains) believes in karma and rebirth, which seek to address this problem. Those who believe in only a single lifetime find it difficult  to answer, and reconcile the inequities  of life with a just and benevolent God. Edgar Cayce, a pious Christian, believed in karma and rebirth. ( I am not arguing, one way or the other; I am merely pointing out the different belief systems).

Hindus too use the word Leela - game- to describe the world; but that is not from our point of view. We say the world is God's leela, His game. We do not understand it fully.

Whatever may the objective factors, not two people experience life in the same manner. Objective  nature may be the same, but each one's internal nature makes him / her react to it in different ways. Hindu systems of psychology, which are very refined, address this problem. Jungian psychology, and later humanistic and interpersonal psychology also consider this. This is an important aspect  of addressing one fundamental question: what does a person do with him/her self?

When it comes to experiencing the world, or life, we experience it mainly as pleasure or pain, joy or sorrow.

P.L.Dunbar: LIFE

A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in,

A minute to smile and an hour to weep in,

A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,

And  never a laugh but the moans come double;

                            And that is life!

A crust and corner that love makes precious,

With a smile to warm and the tears to refresh us;

And joy seems sweeter when cares come after,

And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter;

                            And that is life!

Should life be one long cry of pain? Why do poets express such pain? Is it that they can only give what they have earned or learned?

I will now give two instances when our Hindi poets have sung of these ideas.

Rajinder Krishan, 1951

O beta ji

O betaji, O babuji

Kismat ki hawa kabhie garam kabhi naram

Kabhie naram-garam!

Duniya ka iss chidiya ghar mein

    tarah tarah ka jalwa

Mile kisi ko sookhi roti,

    kisi ko purie halwa

O betaji

Kichdi ka mazaa kabhie naram, kabhie garam

Dard diya to thoda thoda

    Kushie bhi thodi thodi

Wah re Malik,

Dukh aur sukh ki

    khoob banayi jodi

O betaji,

Jeevan ka nasha kabhie naram,

     kabhie garam

Free rendering of meaning:

O son, O sir,

Destiny blows sometimes  hot, sometimes cold

O destiny blows hot and cold!

This world, that is like the cage of birds,

  holds people  with different faces!

Somebody gets just dry bread

  and somebody all sweet delicacies!

O the food is sometimes hot, sometimes cold!

  that is how you enjoy it!

O son, O sir,!

When you give pain, you give it some

  and  you measure out  also the pleasure, 

O God, Master, what to say!

You have made such exquisite pair

       of pain and pleasure!

O son!

The intoxication of life-

  sometimes it is hot, sometimes, cold!

Majrooh Sultanpuri, 1955

This is advice given by the girl to her beloved.

Buraa duniya jo hai kehta 

Aisa bholaa tu na ban,

Jo hai karta wo hai bharta

Ye yahan ka hai chalan,

Tadbeer nahi milne ki yahan

Free rendering of meaning:

Don't you become such a bum

That you blame the world,

   saying it is bad!

Whatever you do here- 

       that is what comes back to you!

Your prudence and forethought

                  will not work here!

The sum of all this is that we do not understand life fully. We have to so conduct ourselves that we evolve personally, and also help the world around us. How will one live such a life?  Let me show what a Hindi poet Shailendra says about it.

Shailendra: 1959

Kisi ki muskurahaton pe ho nissaar,

Kisi ka dard mil sakhe to le udhaar,

Kiai ke vaaste tere dil mein pyaar-

Jeena isi ka naam hai!

Maana apni jeb se fakir hai,

Phir bhi yaron  dil ke hum amir hai;

Mite jo pyar ke liye o zindagi,

Chale bahar ke liye o zindagi,

Kisi ko ho na ho hamen to aitbaar-

Jeena isi ka naam hai!

Rishte dil se dil ke aitbaar ka,

Zinda hai hami se naam pyar ka

Ki marke bhi kisi ko yaad aayenge,

Kisi ke aasnsuvon me muskuraayenge,

Kahega phool har kali se baar baar-

Jeena isi ka naam hai!

Free rendering of meaning:

To offer yourself to someone for smiles,

( feel their happiness as yours)

To share someone's grief,

To have love in your heart for others-

This is the meaning of life.

Admitted, we are poor, measured by our pockets,

Even so are we rich at heart!

Life is love- we are prepared to perish for it!

Life is Spring- we crave to bring it!

This I believe, though others may not ,

That this is the meaning of life!

Relationship we establish heart to heart-

     that is founded on heart's trust,

The name of love lives because of us ( this)

So that even when we die-

        someone may remember us!

So that somebody will care to smile

       even amid his tears.

So a flower will tell the bud- on and on-

That this is the meaning of life!

( The bud will have to blossom into a flower- this is how it can become a perfect flower)

(These poems are real gems. Recited in the original Hindi and Urdu, they have a stunning lyrical quality. These particular pieces are clothed in melodious tunes and can be listened on YouTube.)

A man of love feels a kinship with all the world, which is God's handiwork. Who better to express it than St. Francis?

St.Francis of Assisi (13th Century)

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master!

Grant that I may not so much seek

  to be consoled as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved as to love;

For it is in giving that we receive,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

And it is in dying to self that we are born to eternal life.

Let Shakespeare say it once again:

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio

     Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

    

                                           (Hamlet 1.5)