Light, my light… the eye-kissing light!

“Vibhusanam maunamapanditanam” – says the great poet Birthirihari which loosely translates to “If you can’t make sense, you better be silent”. But I would like to defy Birthrihari, which I often do these days. Well the logic is, however twisted it might appear, if I remain silent, how would the world know the intensity of my stupidity? besides, I do not wish to deprive this world of a certified stupid 🙂

Sounds like Spanish, eh? okay, to the point! I am going to introduce Tagore’s Gitanjali. Yeah, I know its like throwing torch on afternoon sun, I know its foolishness. But a torch is not a bad idea for those whose senses are so used to torches. This writeup is for those who wouldn’t mind bearing torches. The rest can simply close this page, and move onto more meaningful things in life. Now you know what is Birthrihari doing in my piece on Tagore.

There is a wonderful line in the movie Rocky Balboa, Sylvester says : “They always say if you live in one place long enough, you are that place”. I was very fortunate to have laid my hands on this wonderful work, Gitanjali, at a very impressionable age. I have known this for so long that the book has become a part of me. If one asks me to describe myself – I would surely search for the opening line. This exactly is how I feel about Gitanjali. Where do I start?

Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure

One doesn’t have to be an avid reader of poetry to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of Gitanjali. The vocabulary is simple,  so simple that thoughts flow with such smoothness like a dew drop moves on a slant lotus leaf, from one end to the other, without leaving a trace. Tagore doesn’t try to *find* words for his thoughts… his experiences are so vivid and has such pleasant intrusive force in them that his thoughts find the right words and flow through them!

Is it possible to *understand* experiences? The moment when you saw a little kid on the road smiling at you from the heart of his hearts, for no reason. The split second when a beautiful girl passes by, looks at you and it goes right through your heart. Is it possible to *understand* them? Gitanjali is not to be understood. Perhaps no one could. Verse after verse, word after word Gitanjali paints pictures of experiences which transport you to another universe where the very act of understanding becomes meaningless. True poetry, in my view, doesn’t aim to be meaningful.

In Republic Plato talks about exiling the poets. He has no place for poets in ‘a city that is to be well-governed’. Well, Its not his mistake. Had Tagore been around in his time, he would surely have had a different opinion on poets.  Tagore dreams about a country, where the mind knows no fear and the head is always held high. He shouts at hypocritical bhaktas – ‘leave this chanting and singing, the real God is out there, in the fields sweating it out’. He becomes the lover and the loved. He becomes the knower and the known. He becomes rejoices, sings, praises, cries… he engulfs you with his wonderful experiences, and before you could realize, they become your experiences.

I could go on and on, writing unintelligible disconnected stuff about Gitanjali and Tagore, for that is the way it is supposed to be. But, only a person of Tagore’s calibre can possibly tell you what Tagore is, and what Gitanjali is, which I am not. I will end this piece with one of my all time favorite poems from Gitanjali.

Light, my light, the world-filling light,

the eye-kissing light,

heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life;

the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;

I always wonder.. where do I find that eye kissing, world filling light!!