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Truth-Spirit of Enquiry

Transformation

Sri Aurobindo

 

My breath runs in a subtle rhythmic stream;

It fills my members with a might divine:

I have drunk the Infinite like a giant's wine.

Time is my drama or my pageant dream.

Now are my illumined cells joy's flaming scheme

And changed my thrilled and branching nerves to fine

Channels of rapture opal and hyaline

For the influx of the Unknown and the Supreme.

 

I am no more a vassal of the flesh,

A slave to Nature and her leaden rule;

I am caught no more in the senses' narrow mesh.

My soul unhorizoned widens to measureless sight,

My body is God's happy living tool,

My spirit a vast sun of deathless light.

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Truth-Discrimination

The Song of India

What song shall I sing of you, my Mother?

I asked.

'Shall I sing

Of the Himalayas with their snow-born peaks,

Of the three seas that wash your palm?

Shall I sing

Of your clear dawn with its pure gold-streaks?'

Said the Mother imperturbable, calm;

'Sing of the beggar and the leper

That swarm my streets.

Sing of the filth and the dirt

That foul my sylvan retreats.'

'What song shall I sing of you, my Mother?'

I asked.

'Shall I sing

Of your rock-cut temples, epics in stone,

Of your children that died to call you their own,

Their very own?

Of the seers and prophets that hewed the straight path

For the man that pilgrims alone?

Said the Mother in indignant words

That beat into my ears like gong,

That flew about me, a pitiful thing,

Like great white birds:

'Sing of the millions that toil.

Sing of the wrinkled face

Indexing ignorance.

'Sing of the helpless child

Born in a bleak, dark home.

Nervous, I yet would ask,

Deeming it my task:

'What song shall I sing of you, my Mother?

What song?

Shall I sing of the dam and the lake?

Of steel mills, the ship-building yard?

Of the men that work hard

To technologiese, to put you on the page

Of the Atomic Age?

Said the Mother: '0f these you may sing.

But sing also of the strikes, early

and late,

Of iron men that come in their wake,

Of class-war and its correlate.'

Querulous, I said:

'Is there no song that I can sing of you,

Heart-whole, unalloyed'?

A song bathed in the stainless blue

Unvapouring in the void?'

At that the Mother rose, draped in blue sky.

Milk-white oceans heaved round her. Their waves

Were the entrancing and enthroning light

On which she sat and wrote the Book of the Morrow.

Her forehead opened like earth's destiny

Yielding the sun-god, cancelling all sorrow.

It was clear dawn. Like a nightmare fled the night

And the sun-beam was as the Hand that saves.

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Truth-Discrimination

Blow the garden of my life into bloom

Sane Guruji

 

Lord, blow the garden of my life into bloom

A skilled gardener that you are.

keep the garden

Propitiate in it the celestial grace

The bother of the past abounds here

Set the bird free to fly

Spite and malice are the stones

Break them and make the tree of love bloom

Sexual passion and carnal desire

are sure to eat away this garden

With the baton of renunciation,

banish them away

Raise here a beautiful temple

of dauntless faith and the worship of the virtue

Spatter here the jigging fountains

of ardour and joy

Bring into being the cool and serene arbour

of rectitude and sanctity

Blowing the garden into bloom. Lord. dwell there.

and blow then your sweet flute.

 

Translated from Marathi by Pradeep Gopal Deshpande

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Truth-Respect for All Religions

The Only True Religion

Sane Guruji

To offer love to the world

is the only true religion

The mean and the extremely base in this world,

the meek and the downtrodden in this world

should be sought and uplifted

Give love to the world

Those that are forever miserable and most helpless

Those that are oppressed by all

should be sought and lit by laughter

Give love to the world.

Do not rack anyone for no reason

Do not slight anyone for no reason

Regard all as your brothers

Give love to the world

All are children of God

All are dear to him

Do not look down upon anyone

Give love to the world

This is the essence of religion

This is the essence of truth

Die for the weal of others

Give love to the world

 

Translated from Marathi by Pradeep Gopal Deshpande.

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Truth-Service to others

The Voice of Man

Munib-ur-Rahman

 

Today I have heard the voice of man.

Filled with life's passion,

Vibrant, flushed with emotions,

Surging forward like a wave of molten steel.

The voice of man, not a few howling madmen,

Grim, violent, terrifying,

Hissing like venomous snakes

Swirling on the shoulder of death.

 

Today I have heard the voice of man

In burgeoning fields, in fat pastures,

In the perpetual pulse of factories,

In long veins of mines underground,

Ploughs scoring the earth's bosom,

Crackling limbs of giant machines,

Vast ships cleaving the surging seas,

Song, dance, books, buildings, statues,

Countless lips, innumerable eyes,

All crying out for justice now.

 

Today I have heard the voice of man.

My desires, my heart,

Every fibre of my being

Longs to dissolve in this voice.

0 watchdogs of religion,

0 flag-bearers of cruel politics,

You tremble when you hear the voice.

But I - I weave my song

From the strands of the voice of man.

 

Translated from Urdu by Baidar Bakht and Kathleen Grant Jaegar.

 

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Truth-Respect for All Religions

Dream of Dawn (Khwab-e-Sehar)

Asrar-ul-Haq Majaz

 

For ages has the radiant sun been shining in the skies,

But human mind has always struggled in the shade of night.

 

Darkness has held its sway since the world began,

Not a ray was allowed to light the head or heart of man.

 

Religion too from time to time has made her vain forays,

The rain of revelation too has purified this place.

 

Angels too from time to time have descended on this earth,

Noble souls have also been displaying their precious worth.

 

Moses, Umraan, Mary's Jesus-all showed their spiritual might,

Ram, Gautam, Faroun, Haaman, all have their hands tried.

 

Wielders of the pen and sword have also walked this globe,

The world has been graced by unnumbered reverend folk.

 

For centuries has the human heart to idols been a prey,

Islam too, like vernal cloud, has fertilised this clay.

 

Mullahs have been sermonising in the holy mosques,

Brahamins have been chanting hymns in their synagogues.

 

Man has been supplicating saints and sages wise,

Human misery, all the same, has all recipes defied.

 

Human brow has always bent at this or that threshold,

Humanity has always suffered inequities untold.

 

There has been no dearth of leaders, or of prophets wise,

Greed for gold has plied its trade wearing religious guise.

 

Feeling hearts have tried to leaven knowledge with the light of love,

The clouds of darkness, nevertheless, have always hung over this earth,

 

Such struggle, such suffering, such heinous carnage!

How long has man been to superstition a slave!

 

Human mind has at last awakened from its heavy sleep,

In the stormy night of life, in the superstitious deep,

 

Has at least dreamt a dream of the golden dawn,

Looked at last towards the East, where none before glanced.

 

Translated from Urdu by K.C. Kanda

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Truth- Spirit of Enquiry

Words, and Words

Nirmalaprabha Bordoloi

 

I am in the midst of words

In the midst of words I

The words are in my midst.

 

With words I see

I recognise

I introduce myself

I smell

I touch

Each tremble

I perceive closeness.

 

Words make me stand

On many levels

At the same moment

I become he

He becomes myself

Just in a moment

The fragrance of sky

Gives me wings

I enter into the depths of the perfume

With a tree I become tree

With a river, river.

 

The sound make me sicken

Distressed, stunned

They make me excited

They arose the thousand 'I's in me

Like a murmuring breeze

Like a thing seen in flash

Like a sound faintly heard.

 

I become agitated

I run to touch me

To turn my face away

I search for 'Amitabha'

I search for 'Adityabarna'

I search for 'Nilanjana'

Where are you all?

 

I want to become blue

I want to be of the colour of gold

I want to burn my body to ashes

So much blood in words

So much fire in words.

 

Translated from Assamese by Ajit Barua.

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Truth- Discrimination

The Guru

Tayumanavaswamy

 

True of tongue are the truly holy;

Truth never from their speech is far;

Truly within their heart, Thou dwellest

Truth that is true, all things that are

Truth, unto them Thou truly teachest,

Truth this is true without a doubt.

Falsehood never have I abandoned:

False one am I,within, without,

Falsehood not knowing as but falsehood,

Falsely that I should say and do

Falsehood of all falsehoods the falsest

Falsehood not seen to be untrue,

Thy doing all who in me being

My mind at Thy behest and beck

Movest, What can I do all helpless?

Thou art the Guru round whose neck

 

Dark blue the ring of drunken poison

For ever burns, Siva. Thou art

The Guru who as Vishnu camest

To men Thy wisdom to impart.

Thou sittest on Thy seat of lotus

Expounder of the Vedas four,

Brahma, whose head the four-ways faceth.

Four -faced who is from ever more.

In all the creeds to calling voices

The gracious Guru comest Thou;

And to Thy saints whose cry Thou hearest,

Foresake us not,O, succour now,

Thou Love, to loving ones, becomest,

Wise Counsellor in doings all,

O Source of Grace, in joy past thinking,

That dancest in high Wisdom's Hall.

 

Translated from Tamil by T.Isaac Tambyah.

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Truth-Spirit of Enquiry

If Your Steps Slacken

Kulo Thungan

 

My dear heart: you keep rolling in dust and reveling

in fifth like a worm ; do not seem to

aspire for anything of value.

 

You do not aim to soar and swim in

the sky and fly in space----

You are cuddled in the

prison--house of your flesh and blood:

The one that moves on the stomach

can never attain any great height.

 

I see no urge, no throbbing, no

energized endeavor on your part:

You do not seem to seek the

light of learning ,yearn for

goals that transcend human bounds.

You have no pride---

Cannot shun the petty, nor

Entertain any longing for a surging life and  glory

You seem to be happy living in dizzy darkness.

 

The grass, the shrub, the worm

and lifeless stone---all have a story of their own:

To be born, to grow, to procreate.

To wither with age and die,

is common to every life:

Endowed with a boundless mind, able to dream

and imagine

you are the peak of all creations.

 

You are the perennial spring of

ambitions and emotions that break all

chains and continue the onward march..

Yours is the scripture that proclaims

that the inaccessible and the impossible

have no place in your faith.

 

You are like a poet who wanders singing in the sky

and in space ;who moves in the

world of the moon and beyond.

You are as free and exuberant as

the lark in a wooded forest.

You mix the golden rays of the

sun, enjoy the company of the clouds with

the flash of lightning and

there you sing your songs of

liberty and liberation.

 

Yours is a mind that has the

majesty of logic and reason;

What has so far been impossible for you,

has not been found possible for anyone else.

From the beginning of life, the journey that

you undertook ,you continue tirelessly.

You are he creator of all the angels, god and

Other heavenly beings that the world talks about;

You are also the father of the sciences

that destroyed many myths.

 

We do not know till today

whether it is for good or bad,

with a purpose or without one,

why this world came into existence.

But from all the we know of,

it is humanity that devised the means , the method

and form for growth , and you continue to grow:

In the path of progress you used the tools of logic,

inquiry, endeavor and courage as your companions.