Dynamic Shakti parts from Consciousness
(As seen on the plane relative where we move,
But Consciousness and Shakti are not apart!)
And each in love from basic oneness spring,
Towards the other moves in ecstasy,
And obstacles are met: this is the love play
Of all creation; this our joy and woe.
This known, the secret of true love is known;
Of knowledge and of action, too, is known;
Life’s purpose and fulfillment do not mystify;
To consciousness all Shakti’s units wend their way;
When Shakti seeks in humility its source
Then consciousness does spread out to embrace
And then is manifest the Power Supreme.
The foolish Devas knew not the import
Of Brahma’s words: A bit like “Monster’s apes”
That prate of Brahma’s incest (!) their minds flew
To thoughts of union in blood and flesh,
And Manmatha, the fool, decided to tempt,
As asked by Brahma, with intention to teach:
Let that wait: let the world prepare for Skanda’s birth.
Ye Indian Forests, noble, glorious,
Ye wombs of mystic symbols beautiful,
If ever ye were barbarous and crude,
Ye changed at the touch of our sages great
To homes of culture and civilization
Where founts of piety and learning throve
And life matured in beauty, love and truth.
O Mother Earth, prepare a bower of reeds,
Cool, soothing, fragrant, filled with the breath of saints;
And in it shall be, chaste as the world’s pristine heart,
A pond of lotuses that swoon in ecstasy;
Let the heart of the worlds tick tunefully
For He will be born who will make us free,
The joy of the worlds, the delight of Gauri.
Ye Indian Forests, guard this bower well,
As ye have kept the treasures of our culture;
On Ganga’s waves afloat, the rays of the Redeemer
Will take their earthly shape in the pond you hide;
And vestal maidens will come here to nurse,
And Gauri will come to embrace her child
Whose splendour will shine like the red hue of blood
Of Sootha, the supreme Sage, to whom the past
Was clear like the lines on the palm of his hand,
The saints assembled to hear him narrate
The leelas of Lord Skanda, thus did ask – “O Great Sage, Mahamune, may we hear,
How into their sad plight the Devas fell
And how arose the foes that crushed without remorse”.
All thoughts and deeds, good, bad, indifferent,
Must find their due fulfillment in time’s course,
And perchance be the source of further deeds
That keep life’s drama playing endlessly:
No thought, no word, no deed but must react
In time’s long vista as bloodshed or bloom,
In the world’s troubled life as light or gloom.
As laws of nature, broken or ignored
Will mar the happy course of human life,
As poisons injure and vitamins nourish,
As the Sun must shine, the stream must flow down-hill,
The law of karma, pivotal, supreme,
Directs life’s currents all in subtle mode
And governs life in its worst complexity.
O Sages, hear: Daksha, the son of Brahma,
Was blessed by Lord Shiva with many a boon,
For he did penance intense, rigorous
And pleased the Lord in whom abide the triads
Of Powers, and the ONE that transcends all;
Thus blest by Shiva, Daksha rose to be
The Ruler of the Devas and worlds three.
The Lord Supreme, in His immense delight,
Conferred on Daksha yet another boon
And blessed that he would be the father on earth
Of Parvathi, put through a course of human birth,
For she had dared to breathe words in dispute
And had to win the fulness of peace and Truth
In knowledge of the ONE that indwells all.
In Daksha’s kingdom, in a lotus pond
Afloat, Sri Parvati lay as a child,
And King Daksha that chanced to pass that way
Saw that rare Beauty that drew all his heart;
And filled with love he cared not to know why;
He took the child and named her Dakshayani,
And in the fullness of his love she grew.
In age, in beauty and in loveliness,
In love, in duty and in piety,
Dakshayani grew, but her love for parents
Was but the sparkling spray of a cascade
That spread at the feet of Siva, the Lord,
To whom she vowed her heart and hand and life
In love that would survive the chain of births and deaths.
With each beat of Her heart, each tick of Her pulse
With all her modes of mind and moves of life-breath,
With each glance of Her flashing radiant eyes,
And each note of sound that She charged with love
For Siva, ere it took articulate shape,
Dakshayani sought Siva’s holy feet,
For Siva was the ONE whom She would wed.
Daksha, the king, watched this love with delight
And fostered the hope that Siva would seek
The hand of Parvati as a supplicant:
But Siva met Dakshayani alone
Where a pellucid stream curved over the roots
Of a divine tree in a lovely glade
And plighted his troth He would come and wed.