The Essential Works of Tagore. Rabindranath Tagore

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      DEVAYANI. How "No"? Do not lie to me! Love's insight is divine. Day after day, in raising your head, in a glance, in the motion of your hands, your love spoke as the sea speaks through its waves. On a sudden my voice would send your heart quivering through your limbs—have I never witnessed it? I know you, and therefore you are my captive for ever. The very king of your Gods shall not sever this bond.

      KACHA. Was it for this, Devayani, that I toiled, away from home and kindred, all these years?

      DEVAYANI. Why not? Is only knowledge precious? Is love cheap? Lay hold on this moment. Have the courage to own that a woman's heart is worth all as much penance as men undergo for the sake of power, knowledge, or reputation.

      KACHA. I gave my solemn promise to the Gods that I would bring them this lore of deathless life.

      DEVAYANI. But is it true you had eyes for nothing save your books? That you never broke off your studies to pay me homage with flowers, never lay in wait for a chance, of an evening, to help me water my flower-beds? What made you sit by me on the grass and sing songs you brought hither from the assembly of the stars, while darkness stooped over the river bank as love droops over its own sad silence? Were these parts of a cruel conspiracy plotted in your Paradise? Was all for the sake of access to my father's heart?—and after success, were you, departing, to throw some cheap gratitude, like small coins, to the deluded door-keeper?

      KACHA. What profit were there, proud woman, in knowing the truth? If I did wrong to serve you with a passionate devotion cherished in secret, I have had ample punishment. This is no time to question whether my love be true or not; my life's work awaits me. Though my heart must henceforth enclose a red flame vainly striving to devour emptiness, still I must go back to that Paradise which will nevermore be Paradise to me. I owe the Gods a new divinity, hard won by my studies, before I may think of happiness. Forgive me, Devayani, and know that my suffering is doubled by the pain I unwillingly inflict on you.

      DEVAYANI. Forgiveness! You have angered my heart till it is hard and burning like a thunderbolt! You can go back to your work and your glory, but what is left for me? Memory is a bed of thorns, and secret shame will gnaw at the roots of my life. You came like a wayfarer, sat through the sunny hours in the shade of my garden, and to while time away you plucked all its flowers and wove them into a chain. And now, parting, you snap the thread and let the flowers drop on the dust! Accursed be that great knowledge you have earned!—a burden that, though others share equally with you, will never be lightened. For lack of love may it ever remain as foreign to your life as the cold stars are to the un-espoused darkness of virgin Night!

      I

      "Why these preparations without end?"—I said to Mind—"Is some one to come?"

      Mind replied, "I am enormously busy gathering things and building towers. I have no time to answer such questions."

      Meekly I went back to my work.

      When things were grown to a pile, when seven wings of his palace were complete, I said to Mind, "Is it not enough?"

      Mind began to say, "Not enough to contain—" and then stopped.

      "Contain what?" I asked.

      Mind affected not to hear.

      I suspected that Mind did not know, and with ceaseless work smothered the question.

      His one refrain was, "I must have more."

      "Why must you?"

      "Because it is great."

      "What is great?"

      Mind remained silent. I pressed for an answer.

      In contempt and anger, Mind said, "Why ask about things that are not? Take notice of those that are hugely before you,—the struggle and the fight, the army and armaments, the bricks and mortar, and labourers without number."

      I thought "Possibly Mind is wise."

      II

      Days passed. More wings were added to his palace—more lands to his domain.

      The season of rains came to an end. The dark clouds became white and thin, and in the rain-washed sky the sunny hours hovered like butterflies over an unseen flower. I was bewildered and asked everybody I met, "What is that music in the breeze?"

      A tramp walked the road whose dress was wild as his manner; he said, "Hark to the music of the Coming!"

      I cannot tell why I was convinced, but the words broke from me, "We have not much longer to wait."

      "It is close at hand," said the mad man.

      I went to the office and boldly said to Mind, "Stop all work!"

      Mind asked, "Have you any news?"

      "Yes," I answered, "News of the Coming." But I could not explain.

      Mind shook his head and said, "There are neither banners nor pageantry!"

      III

      The night waned, the stars paled in the sky. Suddenly the touchstone of the morning light tinged everything with gold. A cry spread from mouth to mouth—

      "Here is the herald!"

      I bowed my head and asked, "Is he coming?"

      The answer seemed to burst from all sides, "Yes."

      Mind grew troubled and said, "The dome of my building is not yet finished, nothing is in order."

      A voice came from the sky, "Pull down your building!"

      "But why?" asked Mind.

      "Because to-day is the day of the Coming, and your building is in the way."

      IV

      The lofty building lies in the dust and all is scattered and broken.

      Mind looked about. But what was there to see?

      Only the morning star and the lily washed in dew.

      And what else? A child running laughing from its mother's arms into the open light.

      "Was it only for this that they said it was the day of the Coming?"

      "Yes, this was why they said there was music in the air and light in the sky."

      "And did they claim all the earth only for this?"

      "Yes," came the answer. "Mind, you build walls to imprison yourself. Your servants toil to enslave themselves; but the whole earth and infinite space are for the child, for the New Life."

      "What does that child bring you?"

      "Hope for all the world and its joy."

      Mind asked me, "Poet, do you understand?"

      "I lay my work aside," I said, "for I must have time to understand."

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