A Spiritual Biography of Savitri

29: She moved across the changing earth

 

The world-ways opened before Savitri.


At first a strangeness of new brilliant scenes

Peopled her mind and kept her body's gaze.


But as she moved across the changing earth

A deeper consciousness welled up in her:

A citizen of many scenes and climes,

Each soil and country it has made its home;

It took all clans and peoples for her own,

Till the whole destiny of mankind was hers.


These unfamiliar spaces on her way

Were known and neighbours to a sense within;

Landscapes recurred like lost forgotten fields,

Cities and rivers and plains her vision claimed

Like slow-recurring memories in front,

The stars at night were her past’s brilliant friends,

The winds murmured to her of ancient things

And she met nameless comrades loved by her once.


All was a part of old forgotten selves.


Vaguely or with a flash of sudden hints

Her acts recalled a line of bygone power,

Even her motion’s purpose was not new:

Traveller to a prefigured high event,

She seemed to her remembering witness soul

To trace again a journey often made.


A guidance turned the dumb revolving wheels

And in the eager body of their speed

The dim-masked hooded godheads rode who move

Assigned to man immutably from his birth,

Receivers of the inner and outer law,

At once the agents of his spirit’s will

And witnesses and executors of his fate.


Inexorably faithful to their task,

They hold his nature's sequence in their guard

Carrying the unbroken thread old lives have spun.


Attendants on his destiny’s measured walk

Leading to joys he has won and pains he has called,

Even in his casual steps they intervene.


Nothing we think or do is void or vain;

Each is an energy loosed and holds its course.


The shadowy keepers of our deathless past

Have made our fate the child of our own acts,

And from the furrows laboured by our will

We reap the fruit of our forgotten deeds.


But since unseen the tree that bore this fruit

And we live in a present born from an unknown past,

They seem but parts of a mechanic Force,

To a mechanic mind tied by earth’s laws;

Yet are they instruments of a Will supreme,

Watched by a still all-seeing Eye above.


A prescient architect of Fate and Chance

Who builds our lives on a foreseen design

The meaning knows and consequence of each step

And watches the inferior stumbling powers.


Upon her silent heights she was aware

Of a calm Presence throned above her brows

Who saw the goal and chose each fateful curve;

It used the body for its pedestal;

The eyes that wandered were its searchlight fires,

The hands that held the reins its living tools;

All was the working of an ancient plan,

A way prepared by an unerring Guide.


Across wide noons and glowing afternoons,

She met with Nature and with human forms

And listened to the voices of the world;

Driven from within she followed her long road,

Mute in the luminous cavern of her heart,

Like a bright cloud through the resplendent day.


At first her path ran far through peopled tracts:

Admitted to the lion eye of States

And theatres of the loud act of man,

Her carven chariot with its fretted wheels

Threaded through clamorous marts and sentinel towers

Past figured gates and high dream-sculptured fronts

And gardens hung in the sapphire of the skies,

Pillared assembly halls with armoured guards,

Small fanes where one calm Image watched man's life

And temples hewn as if by exiled gods

To imitate their lost eternity.


Often from gilded dusk to argent dawn

Where jewel-lamps flickered on frescoed walls

And the stone lattice stared at moonlit boughs,

Half-conscious of the tardy listening night

Dimly she glided between banks of sleep

At rest in the slumbering palaces of kings.


Hamlet and village saw the fate-van pass,

Homes of a life bent to the soil it ploughs

For sustenance of its short and passing days

That, transient, keep their old repeated course

Unchanging in the circle of a sky

Which alters not above our mortal toil.


Away from this thinking creature's burdened hours

To free and griefless spaces now she turned

Not yet perturbed by human joys and fears.

 

 

Savitri, pp. 377-79