It is not once but many a time that pride,
Blind to life’s lessons harsh, must falter and fall,
Ere in its final painful overthrow
It crashes in the whirl of slaughter and storm:
True Nandi’s curse, all knew, would not go in vain;
SOORAPADMA, SINGAMUKHA and TARAKA
Would rise and roll the Devas in the dust.
DADHEECHI, the great sage, saw Nandi’s curse
Assume shape as a lurid ominous cloud,
And hastened to warn Daksha to be wise
And humble his mind at Lord Siva’s feet. “O Daksha,” He said, “Do remember the deeds
Of glory and compassion Siva has done:
The world’s life is His leela; know it as such.”
“Your daughter Dakshayani is not yours;
She is Sadasiva Kutumbini;
The forests, hills and planes fill with the Leelas
Of Siva, Shakti and their family;
In multiple hues magnificent shines
The great civilization they enkindle
On nature’s candelabra with man’s Godward mind.”
Like imbeciles tend to confuse the truths
Of metaphysics with the forms of symbols;
Like fools dark in Puranic terminology
Can grasp but puerile tales in noble stories;
Like unregenerate men cast the vulgar
On Siva’s sacred symbol of unity;
Daksha defied Siva’s supremacy.
O Monster that dared to throw the first shaft
Of cosmic war that Siva quickly broke –
Else peopled spheres had sunk in darkness complete
With not the faintest physical light to guide
With not a glimmering of knowledge to lead;
O Fool that tried to rob the Moon of its light,
The magnitude of your crime you do not see.
All obscurantists must sink in the dust,
For the Lord will not let avidya have
More than the share of play that He allots
Through His own Shakti so that the game of life
May be the overthrow of ignorance.
All traitors that create disorder must pay
In suffering; else the law will not stand.
In moments of deep consciousness intense
All climes and continents seem to roll within,
And one feels all earth is a part of one’s self,
And that one’s self belongs to all the earth;
A voice of love comes from dust and all things that live
And sings in the heart, “O you are ours, we are thine,”
And all distinctions seem like vapours of a dream.
One feels that one has lived in all parts of earth
In many ancient ages of storm and din,
And that experience true is the impress
On the mind of the stress of many a life,
And that all the worlds past and present meet
In the man that aspires to win in full
Experience that fixes life in the Soul.
And then one feels that the whole universe lies
In one’s own self; and that the world of the Moon –
Where, it is said, as warp and woof are woven,
The worlds of the Sun, of the sky, of the air,
Of water and earth – is true in one’s self
As in the cosmos: Daksha, you abused
Your powers high, and yet the Lord forgave.
Though Sages warn and Supermen advise
The wicked will go their perverted way;
Their passions rajasic, like beasts of prey,
Will prowl to feed on injury and insult;
King Daksha, stubborn in vindictive pride,
And planning ways to hold up Siva to scorn,
Arranged for a great sacrifice on Ganga’s banks.
At KANKAL in HARADWAR priests were ready
To light the sacred sacrificial fire,
And planes that took guests to the sacrifice
Hummed merrily near Himalaya’s snow clad heights;
Sri Dakshayani saw from her abode
The world of Devas moving in the air,
And wondering asked her Lord what it meant.
“Daksha, your father O heart of my heart,
Is meeting Devas at a sacrifice,
We may not go for we have been left out
From the invitees to the function grand.
You should not bother, fix your mind on God;
Things like this happen, but naught should upset
The calm of our souls and the peace of KAILAS.”