[The Birth of Saviṭr by RY Deshpande which we
serialized in the last twelve related instalments, is a poetic composition based on Sri Aurobindo’s Savitri and was published by the Sri
Aurobindo Center of Los Angeles, the East-West
Cultural Center ,
Los Angeles
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. Divided into twelve books, as was the
tradition for a classical epic, it has forty-eight cantos plus an epilogue.
Part I consisting of the first twenty-four cantos was published in September
1950, just a couple of months before Sri Aurobindo’s passing away in December
of that year; Part II and Part III as a single tome comprising of the remaining
twenty-four cantos and the epilogue appeared in May 1951. 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. The comprehensive
epic possesses simultaneously several dimensions and yet moves through region
after luminous region with remarkable swiftness. Also, it was planned and
executed with great artistic care, with the essential “power of architectural
construction.” So to compress it by a factor of forty is to tell stories, if
not desecrate the magnificence of its structural design. More serious objection
will be the want of spiritual authenticity when we are not in touch with the
truth of inspiration that is there behind it. It will be presumptuous on our
part even to speak of fidelity to the text charged as it is with occult-yogic knowledge.
Sri Aurobindo considered Savitri as his main work in the context of, what we may call his
great avataric objective. It is not only the record of a seeing, but is also a
supreme revelation of his evolutionary vision and its realization. In its
literary aspect it is the Vedic word or the mantra itself. It is “the voice of
the rhythm which has created the worlds.” Its supremacy is such that it becomes
a happy chariot speeding the Rishi on the ascending slopes of heaven. It could
also become a vehicle of awareness and fulfilment for the seeker-souls in their
quest towards the great truth, mahadsatyam. About it Sri Aurobindo says
that it is a word of power born out of the secret depths of our being and is
brooded upon by a deeper consciousness. In it one has the sense of a rhythm
coming from infinity and rushing to infinity, a rhythm which “has for ever been
sounding in the eternal planes and began even in time ages ago and which
returns into the infinite to go sounding on for ages after.” That is precisely
the character of Savitri’s word. That is how Savitri becomes a creation of the dynamic truth. Therefore,
rendering it in any other language or in any other form is possible only if one
can go to the very original source which is the creative hush of omniscience.
For that to happen one has to dwell in the calm womb of eternity and grow in
its summer day. Indeed, its birth is in the Tapas-Shakti and its growth in the
action that can bring felicitous prosperity. To discover Savitri is indeed to transform our earliest mortality itself,
transform it here on earth, transform into the undying splendours of the
Divine.
If we have to characterize Sri
Aurobindo’s Savitri by suitable
epithets, we may very well go to Vyasa’s tale in the Mahabharata and use his
descriptions of Aswapati’s daughter Savitri. She is a radiant daughter, kanyā tejasvīni, she is a damsel of
heaven, devakanyā, she is heavenly
and radiant in form, devarūpiṇi; she
is Goddess Fortune and one who brings the wealth of auspicious gladness, is
beautiful and charming, and is also an adept in the esoteric Yoga of
Meditation, dhyānayogaparāyaņā, thus
equipped to accomplish the purpose for which she has taken this mortal birth in
the world of men. Only a supreme King-Yogi can hence bring about amongst us the
birth of such a flaming rapturous princess. Such too is the poem. Savitri
is Sri Aurobindo’s daughter. Not only that. When he left his body, he left his
consciousness behind forever in it. Indeed, it becomes his spiritual
autobiography. Presenting Savitri in any other form would then naturally
mean writing a quick biography and writing a Yogi’s biography is always a
hazardous business, too hazardous a business, full of shortcomings, generally
carrying with it one’s own prejudices and preferences, one’s own deep-rooted
traditions or samkāras, and for sure one’s own one hundred limitations.
It will be therefore wrong to compare a biography with
an autobiography,—simply because one is an authentic account and the other, by
and large, a derived enterprise even if it were an exceptional achievement. Yet
an affable biography with sufficient insight can provide a certain peep into
the original and bring yet another perspective of vision. Perhaps that could be
its precious gain. After all, Savitri should not be treated as a distant
unapproachable goddess, staying all of her own in a secluded world of remote splendour
and of calm. She will be of no use then, and Sri Aurobindo’s undertaking would
lose all the relevance for us, for whom he “attempted all and achieved all”.
She is not there to be ritualistically worshipped with flower and fruit and
leaf, waved with a wick-lamp. What is necessary is that we should just
contemplatively live in her gleaming ambiance.
This also means that there are as many ways of living in
her glad presence as are the individuals who approach her with an urge to find
the true spirit of divinity in every thing, material as well as heavenly. One
could do meditative paintings, or compose new musical opuses, or present her in
operatic magnificence, or sculpt her moods of love and laughter, or speak of
her in participative discourses, or write hymns and poems in praise of her, or
in deep choreographic gestures bring her movements to the world of men and
matter. And if it is a creative effort then each composition will carry in it
the soul of the particular artist himself. Each one will then have his own Savitri,
each sculptor a bust of his own goddess, each doer of yogic tapasya a
characteristic aura of hers. Therefore, what we are having here is just one
piece of art in a poetic form, suggesting that there will follow many more in
the course of spiritually vibrant times. We may call these cantos as brief
meditations on Savitri. Therefore, they are entirely personal, subjective
in character.
Any representation of a revelatory creation such as of Savitri
has to face problems of several kinds—literary as well as mystic-spiritual.
What I have done here is to allot for myself only just a dozen lines for each
canto of the magnum opus. Sometimes it amounts to speaking of hundreds of lines
in merely a few! How atrocious! But the idea is only to indicate, in a
suggestive and compressed phrase, the thematic nature of the text which has the
canvas of the whole blue firmament to paint the glories of the Sublime. This
approach may appear to be a sort of forced or artificial way of doing things,
but perhaps it has also an advantage in stating the premise in a brief manner.
This must mean that, for a reader steeped in Savitri, these
pieces would appear too sketchy without the rasa of the sweet and
melodious expansive mood of the original. On the other hand, for a beginner not
acquainted with the Master’s epic, things will come with incoherent painful
jolts and the smooth essay-like continuity that readily carries him along may
be missing.
These contemplations on each canto
of Savitri under the present title The
Birth of Saviṭŗ—the Sun-God could have as well been collected in a
volume bearing the name the Book of Savitri. This would have maintained a
direct connection with the original, implying that the composition was an
attempt to provide in a poetic form a compacted argument of each canto of the
epic. We have precedence available to us, albeit in prose, in
But then this would amount to
intellectualizing what must really be felt intuitively, and the plain answer
would be ‘No’. Howsoever genuine the effort be, whatever mystery and music the
poems may possess, even if one may derive pleasure from them, or stand rather
a-gape looking at these mini-wonders, or savour the new and strange
preparations, or offer pleased silence in their appreciation, one ought to
immediately experience some unfaltering quality of inspiration behind them. In
their thematic presentation they may seem pretty well digested, and the
heavenly Muse might have even pressed her sparkly or miraculous feet on several
lines and made a concrete impression; yet the streaming joy in its tranquil
enthusiasm, in its enchanting rush and clarity that creates the original would
be missing. Sri Aurobindo himself says that Savitri renders into poetry
a symbol of things occult and spiritual. In fact it has the spirit, the essence
of a universal consciousness which brings with it wide-embracing and luminous
knowledge, power, charm, beauty in possession of the truth, and truth in the
lure of beauty, and the obligation is that these must at least in some degree
be present in any other creation of it. Will it be then entirely legitimate to
redo the Great Ashwattha Tree in any other form? This redoing may belong to
music, or painting, or poetry, or gardening such as the Japanese bonsai. But,
whatever be the mode, it is to be well understood that this kingly Tree has its
glowing roots in the soil of the upper sky and its luxurious branches spread
down below. Naturally, therefore, howsoever perfectly it be crafted, and with
whatever care tended, the bonsai can never hold the kingly distinction, and all
that one can expect to happen is the appearance of a greenish shade of its
celestial verdure in our scheduled life. An indistinct or faint note of its
existence’s delight is all that we might at times be able to hear in the hassle
and scurry of our daily noisy rounds.
Yet, I suppose, 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 I have 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. The visual and tactile creativity may then seem to recede,
leaving behind only the sharp cyberic-iconic. Which means that, the snippety
nature with its tendency to become inner mental, though perhaps at times
touched by the overhead, will dominate. Yet, possibly, it could secure in its
deep hushful seed-state everything in substance and rhythm.
But if due care is not taken, the
result could be disastrous also. Growing bonsai is always a delicate affair,
highly skilled too as it is which only a professional can handle. In the
objectionable act of poetic thematization one may end up with something that
will be far removed from the author's actual or specific intent. The whole
exercise of expressing Savitri in brief cantos may finally just arrive
at some vague and dubious turn of phrases with “mystic sense, cryptic
quintessence, or gnomic gist”, if not fuddled compression taking the place of
what should be vivid and spontaneous and gracefully fluent carried by the
streaming inspiration. “Oh, this brave attempt at verse’s forge to shape a form
both new and strange!” That would be the bewailing of a puzzled critic. Might
be, then, one has yet to play a great deal with what has come out, and tease
more the truth and the beauty from the reluctant giver of beauty and truth,
that it becomes felicitously chaste and comprehendible. Might very well be,
that something is trying to come through, that it is still groping, and having
not yet found itself is standing helplessly away from us. Might be, it needs
more time, more latitude, more love and fondling. Might be, in a bespelled mood
we have our own quick little ideas and there is the easy self-acclaim—“Arrah,
sweet myself!”
But the voice of the unknown,
though really not so feeble, is never harshly assertive, dominating, and hence
we should necessarily try to listen to it. Perhaps behind the puzzlement there
is also the resolution of our difficulty when, in the serene and composed mood
of identification, we perceive associations that are deeper and subtler and
significantly meaningful. To understand and appreciate a suggestive language
needs another type of sensitivity and acquiring that can be quite worthwhile.
Therefore, instead of worrying about the snippety
makeup of the cantos presented here, we can view them in another manner, in the
manner of an enviable bonsai. But can this cherished bonsai-image be applied to
our cantos, if in despair it is going to feel awfully dwarfed in the presence
of the majestic Tree, if it is going to pant for breath in the atmosphere of
light and delight? There could be a disparaging voice reproachful of them too.
“Sorry, I don’t like this bonsai,” someone possibly will make a gruffish remark
on seeing Savitri reduced to tiny play-toys called cantos. This
criticism could be severe yet, when taken along with Raymond Franck Piper’s
observation about Savitri. “We know that we must resort to the art of
poetry for expressing, to the fullest possible artistic limits, the yearnings
and battles of mankind for eternal life. Sri Aurobindo created what is probably
the greatest epic in the English language and the longest poem in any language
of the modern world. I venture the judgement that it is the most comprehensive,
integrated, beautiful and perfect cosmic poem ever composed. It ranges
symbolically from a primordial cosmic void, through earth’s darkness and
struggles, to the highest realms of supramental spiritual existence, and
illumines every important concern of man, through verse of unparalleled
massiveness, magnificence, and metaphysical brilliance.”
Where would then in such massiveness and magnificence
and metaphysical brilliance this miniature bonsai handiwork park itself off?
Perhaps, nowhere. Spiritual poetry, and Savitri in particular, belongs
to another world and the best is to live in that realm of marvellous reality
alone. But Savitri is also the happy encourager of creativity. Its
electric charge can light up orange-gold flames to brighten our lives. Living
in it is also expressing in it. It gives us the truth to grow more and more in
the dynamics of that truth itself. It never stifles an ardent soul’s longings
towards positive and fulfilling enjoyment of the spirit’s beatitudes with their
precious evocative presents. On the other hand, it has the power to bring
closer to these longings and urges many splendours of love and beauty and
truth’s widenesses.
There is therefore a pretty reasonable hope for the bonsai
attempt also. The Japanese surely know for centuries the big joy of growing
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. To grow trees and plants in containers,
that they look their most beautiful, is to live with nature in another warm and
caring mood of inner concord. In it there is a high degree of aristocracy;
there is even a measure of worshipful devotion to the Nature-Goddess of Beauty.
There is almost a kind of occult-spiritual relationship achieved through
aesthetic Yoga. Through this new friendship with the majestic Tree an artist
allows that majestic Tree to express freely in another way its dharmic
characteristic, its individuality, all done without driving it to fit any
particular category, and to help it achieve its most beautiful, its natural
attractive balanced form. “Sometimes he will bend branches with wires or cut
them off altogether. The key is never to force his 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!
Bonsai is never a reduced photocopy
of the original, just a concise representation in the carefully worked-out
style of miniaturization in sculpture. It does not stem the essential features
or provide a substitute for the true. In fact bonsai in the language of poetry
possesses a possibility of creative selection leading to fresher
interpretations. In the process when we go through choices, there could enter
exaggerations or distortions or aspects having their bearing on personal
affect. None of these will constitute a lack of faithfulness, particularly when
the spirit’s liberties are assured in this creative enterprise. On the
contrary, all this becomes a part of the day’s happening, and there is a joy in
it, a joy that can also be richly meaningful and embracingly widening. 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.
If we have to carry this
bonsai-image farther, it could very much be said that, each bonsai is a brief
creation of an individual artist; it has a distinct indiviuality. 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. While, understandably, we might be somewhat sceptical
about our capacity to find this truth, the chances are that an element of its
expressive reality itself could yet 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.