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Aurobindo 124 Savitri Book 8

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Eight: The Book of Death
Canto Three*: Death in the Forest
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

* The Book of Death was taken from Canto Three of an early version of
Savitri which had only six cantos and an epilogue. It was slightly revised
at a late stage and a number of new lines were added, but it was never fully
worked into the final version of the poem. Its original designation,
``Canto Three'', has been retained as a reminder of this.-(As given in the book)

'By her still sleeping husband lain she gazed
Into her past as one about to die'
'The whole year in a swift and eddying race
Of memories swept through her and fled away
Into the irrecoverable past.'
Then silently she rose and, service done,
Bowed down to the great goddess simply carved
By Satyavan upon a forest stone.'

'What prayer she breathed her soul and Durga knew.
Perhaps she felt in the dim forest huge
The infinite Mother watching over her child,
Perhaps the shrouded Voice spoke some still word.'
Out of stress always cries the heart Ma
At last she came to the pale mother queen.
She spoke but with guarded lips and tranquil face
'All else she pressed back into her anguished heart'

'One year that I have lived with Satyavan Line 28 to
Release me now and let my heart have rest.' Line 43
'I have not gone into the silences
Of this great woodland that enringed my thoughts
With mystery, nor in its green miracles'
'Now has a strong desire seized all my heart
To go with Satyavan holding his hand
Into the life that he has loved'

O'my heart do not grieve, for Savitri is sure to win..
Such Thou words are bouffant with pathos o'Guru
She answered: 'Do as thy wise mind desires, '
'I hold thee for a strong goddess who has come
Pitying our barren days; so dost thou serve'
'Like the strong sun that serves earth from above.'...

............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise

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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Mahabharata, Book V - Overtaken by Fate

Twelve-month in the darksome forest by her true and chosen lord,
Sweet Savitri served his parents by her thought and deed and word,

Bark of tree supplied her garments draped upon her bosom fair,
Or the red cloth as in asrams holy women love to wear.

And the aged queen she tended with a fond and filial pride,
Served the old and sightless monarch like a daughter by his side,

And with love and gentle sweetness pleased her husband and her lord,
But in secret, night and morning, pondered still on Narad's word!

Nearer came the fatal morning by the holy Narad told,
Fair Savitri reckoned daily and her heart was still and cold,

Three short days remaining only! and she took a vow severe
Of triratra, three nights' penance, holy fasts and vigils drear.

Of Savitri's rigid penance heard the king with anxious woe,
Spake to her in loving accents, so the vow she might forgo:

'Hard the penance, gentle daughter, and thy woman's limbs are frail,
After three nights' fasts and vigils sure thy tender health may fail,'

'Be not anxious, loving father,' meekly this Savitri prayed,
'Penance I have undertaken, will unto the gods be made.'

Much misdoubting then the monarch gave his sad and slow assent.
Pale with fast and unseen tear-drops, lonesome nights Savitri spent,

Nearer came the fatal morning, and to-morrow he shall die,
Dark, lone hours of nightly silence! Tearless, sleepless is her eye!

Dawns that dread and fated morning! ' said Savitri, bloodless, brave,
Prayed her fervent prayers in silence, to the Fire oblations gave,

Bowed unto the forest Brahmans, to the parents kind and good,
Joined her hands in salutation and in reverent silence stood.

With the usual morning blessing, 'Widow may'st thou never be,'
Anchorites and agéd Brahmans blessed Savitri fervently,

O! that blessing fell upon her like the rain on thirsty air,
Struggling hope inspired her bosom as she drank those accents fair,

But returned the dark remembrance of the rishi Narad's word,
Pale she watched the creeping sunbeams, mused upon. her fated lord!

'Daughter, now thy fast is over,' so the loving parents said,
'Take thy diet after penance, for thy morning prayers are prayed,'

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poem by Veda Vyasa
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Bell's Palsy I Penned stroke on stroke penned - Optimistic In...Sight

Bell's Palsy I

December turns November's page.
Assumptions artificial,
priorities age must regauge
of ease so superficial
the tenets, try to disengage
from palsy interstitial,
periphery extend sans rage
ineptly hit-and-missile.
Paralysis as passing stage
perceived though prejudicial
as challenge met we trust will wage
war on clock lock official,
ensuring both for sot and sage
return to strength initial...

II

Bell’s Palsy II – Number Seven Optic Nerve

Number seven optic nerve, now numb,
taken for granted, normally ignored,
leaves facial features slanted. Voice, not dumb,
answers questions with weak monochord.
Flesh elastic flaccid has become,
control relinquished, hanging on a word.
Vision peripheral blurred. Though rule of thumb
Provides for time-line, faculties restored,
Frustration, hope, play hide-and-seek, mind glum,
stares awry at some lop-sided smile. Record
of former glory plays back yet stays mum.
May this as an example serve, health granted
For future learning curve can’t be transplanted.

3 December 2007 revised 8 August 2008

Bell's Palsy III - Recounting Countdown

Recounting Countdown

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XIV - Dew Diligence

Bell's Palsy XIV - Dew Diligence

Dew diligence when eyelid is denied
control of wink, when blink becomes a feat
beyond the ken of mice and men, conceit
melts to humility, while cares abide.
Heartbeat accelerates to concide
with worry, movements taken for a ride
by malady haphazard striking fleet.
Fixed expression canvas could complete
as flexibility falls to one side,
focus reduced, no longer far and wide,
too close for comfort, wanders off the beat.
Pride, knocked for skittles, cannot make ends meet,
patience, once praised, stays stage-struck, sorely tried.
Fixed interest stocks soar, gilt lining’s sought
to train too slack to credit outlook taut.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XV - Dissymmetry

Confusion from confusion must adjust
to face tomorrow’s out of kilter grin
with humour ‘til the specialists non-plussed
seize on season’s reason, find win-win
solution to an accident now cussed
in no uncertain terms as worms begin
to lay their weight on current state where lust
must bridled be, - who’d seek as kith and kin
one open eye, one which retains unfussed
perspective, lacks control of muscle spin
to twin both sides in unison true, just.
Dissymmetry becomes a moral gin
and handicap self-efident, untrussed
is optic nerve from verse which would begin
to laugh at luck, continue tongue in cheek
to find new way to strength transformed from weak.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Inertia catalyzes swift reaction

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XV - Dissymmetry

Bell's Palsy XV - Dissymmetry

Confusion from confusion must adjust
to face tomorrow’s out of kilter grin
with humour ‘til the specialists non-plussed
seize on season’s reason, find win-win
solution to an accident now cussed
in no uncertain terms as worms begin
to lay their weight on current state where lust
must bridled be, - who’d seek as kith and kin
one open eye, one which retains unfussed
perspective, lacks control of muscle spin
to twin both sides in unison true, just.
Dissymmetry becomes a moral gin
and handicap self-efident, untrussed
is optic nerve from verse which would begin
to laugh at luck, continue tongue in cheek
to find new way to strength transformed from weak.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Inertia catalyzes swift reaction
testing limits unbeknownst before,
experienced elsewhere, though, we ignore
discomforts which might hamper freedom, action.
Impervious to muscular contraction,
left eyelid, lip, unable are to draw
lines which smile, frown designed, while vision poor
interferes, and adds unsought distraction.
In health, free from nervous petrifaction
few seek out illness, won’t by choice explore
the options close to those that chance, gene flaw
or accident are trapped, lose speech, sight, traction.
Fresh emphasis on disabilities
should top the list of our priorities.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Blessed externals force the mind to turn

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Bell's Palsy XVI - To Test Frontiers

Inertia catalyzes swift reaction
testing limits unbeknownst before,
experienced elsewhere, though, we ignore
discomforts which might hamper freedom, action.
Impervious to muscular contraction,
left eyelid, lip, unable are to draw
lines which smile, frown designed, while vision poor
interferes, and adds unsought distraction.
In health, free from nervous petrifaction
few seek out illness, won’t by choice explore
the options close to those that chance, gene flaw
or accident are trapped, lose speech, sight, traction.
Fresh emphasis on disabilities
should top the list of our priorities.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Blessed externals force the mind to turn
within to test perception shared by all
who, sight curtailed, or lost beyond recall,
must grasp at straws, effect and cause discern,
too well aware temptations bridges burn.
First impressions seem attaitned, ball
‘questions aye’s and no’s’, past free-for-all
is circumcised, undertain seems return
to ‘normalcy’ which, hitherto could earn
approval’s hallmark stamp. Cramps now forestall
options infinite. Cut and dried, in thrall,
one’s tied who far and wide went, wit withdrawn
from choice unlimited as on this page
fragility highlights restictive cage.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVIII - Fragility

Ink flows as if it knows that tale once writ
cannot rephrase a passing phase whose light

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Bell's Palsy XVII - Temptations

Blessed externals force the mind to turn
within to test perception shared by all
who, sight curtailed, or lost beyond recall,
must grasp at straws, effect and cause discern,
too well aware temptations bridges burn.
First impressions seem attaitned, ball
‘questions aye’s and no’s’, past free-for-all
is circumcised, undertain seems return
to ‘normalcy’ which, hitherto could earn
approval’s hallmark stamp. Cramps now forestall
options infinite. Cut and dried, in thrall,
one’s tied who far and wide went, wit withdrawn
from choice unlimited as on this page
fragility highlights restictive cage.

5 December 2007

Bell's Palsy XVIII - Fragility

Ink flows as if it knows that tale once writ
cannot rephrase a passing phase whose light
too soon extinguished must merge into night
where sot or sage blot page, through age unfit.
We’re puppets strung, hands wrung won’t change a bit
repeated role enforced by karmic spite.
If free-will reigns, there’s no pre-destined right
or wrong, no rung to heav’n, no roasting spit.
Through ‘accident’ or ‘fate’ fragility
in spotlight’s thrown, ‘to be, or not to be’
depends upon coincidence where rules
few follow with prescient authority.
Manage man age when palsied dry eye’s numb
is out of reach with speech deformed, near dumb.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2008

Bell's Palsy XIX - Moving Finger Writes

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XX - Infinite Designs

Bell's Palsy XX - Infinite Designs

Comparisons with hindsight simple seem
when fateful footfall flays ‘unkindest cut’
to sever fancy, fact, where yawns redeem
no nightmare fears when eyelid cannot shut.
No need to add to those prose screeds which teem
prolific on life’s rhymeless time climb, but
terse verse may show dimensions unforeseen,
alternate aspects of ill health’s dark rut,
reflections which on higher plane help gleam
hope’s beacon ‘fore life’s final uppercut
replacing frown with fixed grin, skinless cut
from niche so ‘indispensable’ on team.
Palsy surprises, stimulating lines
upon creation’s infinite designs.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2009

Bell's Palsy XXI - Lopsided

Sore cornea, slack lip, mind grind uncheered
are juxtaposed within this swift spun sonnet
as optic nerve’s observed when crookèd, sheared,
recuperation’s odds: few bet upon it.
Partnering frustration has appeared
unbridled spleen, an angry bee in bonnet,
weighing all options with perception cleared
of wishful thinking, been and gone and done it.
Paralysis shows fall from grace, grown beard
can’t mask misfortune though mind tries to con it
committing rambling thoughts to paper smeared
with words erased, replaced, blue blot spots on it.
Lopsided outlook focus finds for mind
assailed by palsy it would leave behind.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2009

Bell's Palsy XXII – Match Met

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XXI - Lopsided

Bell's Palsy XXI - Lopsided

Sore cornea, slack lip, mind grind uncheered
are juxtaposed within this swift spun sonnet
as optic nerve’s observed when crookèd, sheared,
recuperation’s odds: few bet upon it.
Partnering frustration has appeared
unbridled spleen, an angry bee in bonnet,
weighing all options with perception cleared
of wishful thinking, been and gone and done it.
Paralysis shows fall from grace, grown beard
can’t mask misfortune though mind tries to con it
committing rambling thoughts to paper smeared
with words erased, replaced, blue blot spots on it.
Lopsided outlook focus finds for mind
assailed by palsy it would leave behind.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2009

Bell's Palsy XXII – Match Met

Through metaphors one strikes symphonic chords,
sonnet metamorphosis complete,
one mirror image more before towards
tossed sleep’s return’s embossed on crinkled sheet.
One little cares for life’s snares, strife filled street,
when sense of humour, dream denied, affords
itself the luxury of lines to beat
eternity’s sharp introspective swords
to ploughshares. Match met, mighty pen would treat
itself to compensation’s grained awards,
rewards grasped unexpected from defeat
when unresponsive jaws snatch victory
day, night, writes words dry eye can hardly see.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2009

Bell's Palsy XXIII – Ta[l]king for Granted

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XXII – Match Met

Bell's Palsy XXII – Match Met

Through metaphors one strikes symphonic chords,
sonnet metamorphosis complete,
one mirror image more before towards
tossed sleep’s return’s embossed on crinkled sheet.
One little cares for life’s snares, strife filled street,
when sense of humour, dream denied, affords
itself the luxury of lines to beat
eternity’s sharp introspective swords
to ploughshares. Match met, mighty pen would treat
itself to compensation’s grained awards,
rewards grasped unexpected from defeat
when unresponsive jaws snatch victory
day, night, writes words dry eye can hardly see.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2009

Bell's Palsy XXIII – Ta[l]king for Granted

On palsy’s cause no recitation
consensual has been agreed,
in any case fear, greed, elation,
soon sink however great the need
perceived to safeguard life’s rank station
for illness executes trust deed.
What’s blasphemy? what’s profanation?
what prayer path may be decreed
when out of sight slips pagination?
Re-education may succeed
yet there’s no fail-safe medication
providing progress guaranteed
to soothe uncalled for inflamation.

Who takes for granted daily feed
on dainties drawn from every nation,
gaily ignoring [s]he should heed
each morning’s warning present station,
may t[r]ail to full stop won’t succeed
in meeting deadlines, consternation
in turn encounters end indeed,
wormed, urned, CO² cremation.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Bell's Palsy XXIII – Ta[l]king for Granted

Bell's Palsy XXIII – Ta[l]king for Granted

On palsy’s cause no recitation
consensual has been agreed,
in any case fear, greed, elation,
soon sink however great the need
perceived to safeguard life’s rank station
for illness executes trust deed.
What’s blasphemy? what’s profanation?
what prayer path may be decreed
when out of sight slips pagination?
Re-education may succeed
yet there’s no fail-safe medication
providing progress guaranteed
to soothe uncalled for inflamation.

Who takes for granted daily feed
on dainties drawn from every nation,
gaily ignoring [s]he should heed
each morning’s warning present station,
may t[r]ail to full stop won’t succeed
in meeting deadlines, consternation
in turn encounters end indeed,
wormed, urned, CO² cremation.

Objections Death will supercede,
replaced by funeral oration.
No moral’s offered. Rose and weed
first struggle, then succumb, vocation
shared by all flora, fauna, lead
reduced to naught ‘spite invocation
to greedy gods, bead creed, to speed
from illness into true salvation
redemption grant, emancipation.

5 December 2007 revised 17 January 2009

Bell's Palsy I

December turns November's page.
Assumptions artificial,
priorities age must regauge
of ease so superficial
the tenets, try to disengage
from palsy interstitial,
periphery extend sans rage

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Aurobindo-3 Savitri-Book -1

The following are selected verses
from the great epic poem Savitri by Sri.Aurobindo.
This is not an analysis but just an appreciation.
I am not a philosopher, nor I know yoga.
But do we need to be so to
enjoy reading poetry.No.Yet I admit
it was very much difficult to understand
the yoga-part of this great epic.

Sri.Aurobindo's poetic style is exuberantly beautiful
I have tried here to go with the theme mainly.
Many more volumes of appreciation need to be written
specially on his poetic beauty.I am proud of my luck
to have attempted at this epic.I wish everyone reads Savitri
and enjoy the trance therein.May peace be with us all.
-Indira Renganathan

------

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book-1 Book Of Beginnings-Canto-1 Symbol Dawn
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

Her awaiting mind 'upon silence'marge'
Like my inside self hampered and unfree
Awaiting a lit-exit on its dark fence
Awake awaiting a live spirit fluorescent
'Between the first and the last Nothingness.'
Whirling in destiny-held whorls of rebirths
Like the vaccilating resets of my heart
Awaiting Earth wheeling through recycled ignorance.

Timely a 'breach' 'somewhere' 'stirred' and 'began'
'A scout in a reconnaissance from the sun'
Whom my closed soul in my pallid mind
For ever yearn to uplift as if from quicksand
Glinted to resow the 'forgotten bliss'.
An entranced threshold 'glowed' in opalescence
'An instant's visitor the godhead shone'
To write 'the lines of a significant myth'

'The waking ear of Nature heard her steps'
Unbelievable bliss caressed her waking rising
Which my dormant consciousness still wishing for..
And there, mighty Savitri rose truth-cloaked
'Akin to the eternity whence she came'
All against earthly godly transience
But'trapped in the gin of earthly destinies
Awaiting her ordeal's hour abode'

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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Beldame of Death

A crunch: afoot a dead arachnid
Spanning once a serving plate –
Oh! that others be alive
With such as me for spider bait!

I slunk along the silent hall
Of ancient ore attired in grime –
Feculent beyond the nose;
No bearing here, nor feel for time.

I shuddered in appreciation –
The ambience would mortify
A feeble mind, aghast, opined
Of murky thought, and typify
The will of Belial err I brought
Upon myself to loathe and dread
Exquisite retribution: to linger
Oftentimes alive, then dead.

Compulsion saw me edging on
Toward a narrow door of oak.
Behind, I knew, a greater evil
Waiting in her fusty cloak.

A choice of nil upon the table;
Aught of leave, I had to face
Alone the shrew – her flaming aura
Angling me; my deep disgrace
From ugly deeds I dealt in life,
A heinous world I honed in glee…

'Now take a crooked path to death,
For I have come to torture thee! '

Out of eyes of orange flame,
A piercing glare, then here it came –
The cackling cry of chanting song:

'You thought you'd die alone in pain
The once – nay nay! you'll die with me,
And so a catch: you'll die again
Ad infinitum - ever be!

Your soul to curse, my heart we'll gore,
Your liver to draw and quarter;
A sadomasochistic pair,
We'll slither together in slaughter! '

I answered only with a scream, from
Sensing near her craving lust.

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Aurobindo 90 Savitri Book 6

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Six: The Book of Fate
Canto One: The Word of Fate
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

'Then cried the sage piercing the mother's heart,
Forcing to steel the will of Savitri,
His words set free the spring of cosmic Fate.'
''The truth thou hast claimed; I give to thee the truth.'Line 531 to
'This day returning Satyavan must die.'Line 588
Fate of Satyavan revealed...
But the queen cried: 'Vain then can be heaven's grace! Line 590 to
A choice less rare may call a happier fate.'Line 608

'But Savitri answered from her violent heart, -
'Once my heart chose and chooses not again...
....I am stronger than death and greater than my fate;
My love shall outlast the world, doom falls from me
Helpless against my immortality.
Fate's law may change, but not my spirit's will.'
How determined the words here like Savitri
How determined was Savitri that we still wonder at...

'But in the queen's mind listening her words
Rang like the voice of a self-chosen Doom
Denying every issue of escape.'
'O child, in the magnificence of thy soul..Line 638 to
It greatens slowly into timeless peace.'Line 717
A mother's exemplary advice in Thou colourful words
A mother's caring plea in Thou poetic deliverance...
'But Savitri replied with steadfast eyes: '

'My will is part of the eternal Will, Line 719 to
I have seen the Eternal in a human face.'Line 755
What else could a true love ever be than immortal
And not 'Only to live and love awhile and die.'
'Then none could answer to her words. Silent
They sat and looked into the eyes of Fate.'.........

............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune

End of Canto One

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Oye Mi Canto - Feat. Nina Sky, Tego Calderon

If You proud to be Latino Stand The F**k Up!!!
SBK...(SBK)
Alive...(Alive We Comin' Up!)
Nina Sky...
N.O.R.E & Tego...(N.O.R.E. , Tego)
Gem Star...(Gem Star) Big Nato..(Ah Big Nato)
C'mon,..C'mon
Whoa...Whoa...Whoa...Whoa
What U Say?
pueriqua (HA!) Morena (HA!) Dominicano (HA!) Columbiano (HA!)
Pueriqua (HA!) Morena (HA!) Cubano(HA!) Mexicano (HA!)
Oye Mi Canto
You See This Is What they Want,
They want reggaeton,
What! What!
They Want Reggaeton,
Esta Lo Que Quieren,
Toma Reggaeton,
QUE? QUE?
Toma Reggaeton,
You See, I'm N.O.R.E. Keep My Story,
My Story I Always Kick It QUE?
When I Bone Shorty I Slap Culo And Listen QUE?
Soy El Gem Estrella Cuando Canto Lo Que Dicen, (WHAT?)
Una Nalga En El Culo Ella Grita, (WHAT?)
See Her Booty Gotta Rep For It's Own,
I Be fajardo,San Juan, Bayamon,
Sol En Campo Santiago, Tabacco Y Rome,
Aya En Puerto-Rico Con Bacardi Y Rome
Ahh This All That
and you can tell spanky on it
the remix to the remix we yankey on it
Toma Reggaeton,
Remix Wit' Tego On It
Esto moffongo, ma
Con N.O.R.E. On It
Un Reggaeton Con Gem Star Y Big Nato On It
Chorus:
Whoa...Whoa...Whoa...Whoa
pueriqua (HA!) Morena (HA!) Dominicano (HA!) Columbiano (HA!)
pueriqua (HA!) Morena (HA!) Cubano (HA!) Mexicano (HA!)
Oye Mi Canto
Al Dormir Cuando Suenan Venden Como Pan Caliente
No Se Me Duerman Con Aquella Gente
Si Quieren Comprar Vendale La Muerte
Y Contarle La Consencia Por Que No Le Encuentren
Digo Ayuda, Pero Si No Tiro La Sulla
La Jaula Esta Segura Antoja La Caulla
So Pica La Cuasahita Especialmente El Dia De Visita
Que No Llego Mi Viejita

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song performed by N.O.R.E.
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Aurobindo 190 Savitri Book 12

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Twelve: Epilogue
The Return to Earth
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

So was Satyavan there alive awakened
'Then one spoke there who seemed a priest and sage:
'O woman soul, what light, what power revealed,
Working the rapid marvels of this day,
Opens for us by thee a happier age? '
'They claimed for their deep childlike motherhood
The life of all these souls to be her life,
Then falling veiled the light.'

'Low she replied, 'Awakened to the meaning of my heart
That to feel love and oneness is to live
And this the magic of our golden change,
Is all the truth I know or seek, O sage.'
'Wondering at her and her too luminous words
Westward they turned in the fast-gathering night.'
Then'Drawn by white manes upon a high-roofed car'
Went 'With linked hands Satyavan and Savitri, '

'Then while they skirted yet the southward verge,
Lost in the halo of her musing brows
Night, splendid with the moon dreaming in heaven
In silver peace, possessed her luminous reign.
She brooded through her stillness on a thought
Deep-guarded by her mystic folds of light,
And in her bosom nursed a greater dawn.'
'A greater dawn'...bless us with that O'Savitri

The End
---------

After reading the long epic Savitri....

My words are speechless in mum bliss
When mind reads the verses comprehended
Heart is painted of its poetic colour..
Of its similies, metaphors, choice of words
style of write tremendously outstanding
And as the soul just resting wakefully
On the couch of its tranquil transcendence
Lighted vision enjoying its spotless light

And when awakes my 'I', urgent it wishes
To mark the sacred rise of Savitri again
A golden touch of her glorious mien supreme

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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Aurobindo 126 Savitri Book 8

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Eight: The Book of Death
Canto Three*: Death in the Forest
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

'Then Savitri sat under branches wide,
Cool, green against the sun, not the hurt tree
Which his keen axe had cloven, -that she shunned;
But leaned beneath a fortunate kingly trunk
She guarded him in her bosom and strove to soothe
His anguished brow and body with her hands.
All grief and fear were dead within her now
And a great calm had fallen.'

'Griefless and strong she waited like the gods.
But now his sweet familiar hue was changed'
He cried out in a clinging last despair, '
'Savitri, Savitri, O Savitri,
Lean down, my soul, and kiss me while I die.'
'His cheek pressed down her golden arm. She sought
His mouth still with her living mouth, as if
She could persuade his soul back with her kiss; '

'Then grew aware they were no more alone.'
'Something had come there conscious, vast and dire.
Near her she felt a silent shade immense'
'As if from a Silence without form or name'
The Shadow of a remote uncaring god
Doomed to his Nought the illusory universe, '
'She knew that visible Death was standing there
And Satyavan had passed from her embrace.'....

Reading these this moment a ball of breath
Blocking my life in my throat
Breathless even I grow; and screaming my heart
Prays, pleads, implores sunken in tears
'Save o'Savitri save, Thy true love thine alone
Saved this Earth then in mundane bliss....

............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune

End of Book Eight
End of Part Two

poem by Indira Renganathan
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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.

PART THE FIRST

I

In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Aurobindo 84 Savitri Book 5

An appreciation on Savitri-
Book Five: The Book of Love
Canto Three: Satyavan and Savitri
Words within inverted commas are Aurobindo's

'Thus Satyavan spoke first to Savitri: Line 17
'O thou who com'st to me out of Time's silences,
Yet thy voice has wakened my heart to an unknown bliss,
Immortal or mortal only in thy frame,
For more than earth speaks to me from thy soul
And more than earth surrounds me in thy gaze, '
'out of Time's silences'..What an apt expression
Over a mysterious play of the heavens

....Burning in thousand-pillared homes of light.'Line56
Of Earth and fire and wind and woods and pools
Nymphs and apsaras, his mystic meeting Satyavan speaks...
'So now my mind could dream and my heart fear
That from some wonder-couch beyond our air
Risen in a wide morning of the gods
Thou drov'st thy horses from the Thunderer's worlds.'
A well read defining by Satyavan indeed...

'Although to heaven thy beauty seems allied, ..Line 61 to
'To make a resting chamber fit for thee.'..Line97
Her fate is strengthened by Satyavan's request
'Musing she answered, 'I am Savitri, 'Line 100 to
'And the blind murmur of primaeval calms? ' Line 111
Very sweet Savitri enquires with further conversation
'And Satyavan replied to Savitri: 'Line 112 to
'It shall escape from Death and Ignorance.'Line 221

An ongoing play in my vision along my reading
Making my heart, mind and soul speechless
Yet my mouth utters heartfelt mind-blowing, soul-srirring
Music to the musical ears, visual to the visioning eyes
A gastronomy of words to the taste of literature
A wakefulness to the Matter awake.................

............My consciousness this moment,
O'Guru, I'm in awe....in invincible heights
Ineffable Thee embellishing poetic creation
My inquisitive apprehension, erring Thee may opine
May thereso, let Savitri in my self arise
Aroused thereso be knowledge and fortune

poem by Indira Renganathan
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

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poem by Charles Churchill
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The

I
MILES STANDISH

In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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