Here is an attempt to present Savitri in brief stanza-like compositions, each with just twelve lines. Savitri is a poem written in pentametric blank verse form, mostly with end-stopped lines, running almost to twenty-four thousand in number. The poet was occupied with its composition for a number of years, for more than thirty years though with some long gaps in between. He also took Savitri as a means of expression of the higher truth yogically experienced and realised by him, expression turned towards fixing it here more and more with all the spiritual contents in it. It is an expression of the wonderful sovereignty itself, and hence becomes most valuable. Even in its outward character it is encyclopaedic. Therefore, to think of putting such a work in scarcely six hundred lines is a perilous task, fully loaded with the question if this should be done at all.

Yet this composition has its own worth and its own appeal, its own good point, perhaps holding an agreeable keenness of another aesthetic denomination, another possibility of perceptive enjoyment. Firstly, we cannot have the epic style for short compositions, as are presented here. The technique that has been adopted is mostly that of a short but swift and even narrative, though at times it may be lyric-sensitive or occult-symbolical. In the process, there is likelihood of moving far away from the original’s wholesome Hellenistic beauty, of falling into the trimmed expressive form that is highly profiled and geometric in tone and character. Yet, possibly, it could secure in its deep hushful seed-state everything in substance and rhythm.

There is actually a reasonable hope for the present attempt also, the bonsai attempt. The Japanese surely know for centuries the big joy of growing little bonsai. For them cultivating bonsai is a very artistic hobby, and there is nothing artificial in it. It can become for them an articulation of the sense of what is charming and attractive. The key is never to force one’s will on it but to appreciate the dignity of each living plant and treat it with love and respect.” And the nice thing about this bonsai art is that there is no such thing as a “finished” bonsai!

At times it can even bring the radiance of an early hour, or else a sudden revelation that can light up our obscurities. In the dark night of the soul where it is always three o’clock in the morning, there can break the subtler crimson or orange; it can brighten the sky with its mysterious glow. Perhaps it is that which will be most welcome in this language of poetry.

Indeed, each bonsai is a brief creation of an individual artist; it has a distinct individuality. The bonsai of a particular tree by different artists will be different, each carrying in it the aesthetic truth of its soul’s reality as experienced by him in the deep meditative association with it. He might as well say that, rightfully, it is his bonsai. Its imaginative language can thus become intensely contemplative as well as personal. Each bonsai then turns into an opener of prospects which lie beyond our immediate sight that sees only the outward form. The truth that is not relative or pragmatic can step into the silence of our mind and mould our thoughts in its verities, can give pleasing and well-formed shapes to our life’s questing moods. The chances are that an element of its expressive reality itself yet could enter into us. The Savitri-meditations will then have served the initial purpose of taking us in that truth’s ambiance. These can themselves then become gateways leading us to her sun-worlds.

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