A poem by Sri Aurobindo
In Manipur upon her orient hills Chitrangada beheld intending dawn Gaze coldly in. She understood the call. The silence and imperfect pallor passed Into her heart and in herself she grew Prescient of grey realities. Rising, She gazed afraid into the opening world. Then Urjoon felt his mighty clasp a void Empty of her he loved and, through the grey Unwilling darkness that disclosed her face, Sought out Chitrangada. "Why dost thou stand In the grey light, like one from joy cast down? O thou whose bliss is sure. Leave that grey space, Come hither." So she came and leaning down, With that strange sorrow in her eyes, replied: "Great, doubtless, is thy love, thy very sleep Impatient of this brief divorce. And yet How easily that void will soon be filled! For thou wilt run thy splendid fiery race Through cities and through regions like a star. Men's worship, women's hearts inevitably Will turn to follow, as the planets move Unbidden round the sun. Thou wilt accept them, Careless in thy heroic strength and beauty, And smile securely kind, even as a God Might draw an earthly maiden to his arms And marry his immortal mouth to hers. Then will thy destiny seize thee, thou wilt pass Like a great light in heaven and leave behind Only a memory of force and fire. No lesser occupation can for ever Keep thee, O hero, whose terrestrial birth Heaven fostered with her seed,—for what but this To fill thy soul with battle, and august
Misfortunes and majestic harms embrace And joys to thy own nature mated. Last, Empire shall meet thee on some mighty field Disputing thee with death. Thou art not ours More than the wind that lingers for a while To touch our hair, then passes to its home." And Urjoon silently caressing her, "Muse not again, beloved Chitrangada, Alone beside the window looking out On the half-formed aspect and shape of things Before sunlight was made. For God still keeps Near to a paler world the hour ere dawn And one who looks out from the happy, warm And mortal limit of mankind that live Enhoused, defended by companionship With walls and limitations, is outdrawn To dateless memories he cannot grasp And infinite yearnings without form, until The sense of an original vastness grows, Empty of joyous detail, desolate, In labour of a wide unfinished world. Look not into that solemn silence! Rather Protect thyself with joy, take in my arms Refuge from the grey summons and defend Thy soul until God rises with the sun. Friendly to mortals is the living sun's Great brilliant light, friendly the cheerful noise Of earth arising to her various tasks And myriad hopes. But this grey hour was born For the ascetic in his silent cave And for the dying man whose heart released Loosens its vibrant strings." She answered him, "Near to the quiet truth of things we stand In this grey moment. Neither happy light Nor joyful sound deceives the listening heart, Nor Night inarms, the Mother brooding vast, To comfort us with sleep. It helps me not
To bind thee for a moment to my joy. The impulse of thy mighty life will come Upon thee like a wind and drive thee forth To toil and battle and disastrous deeds And all the giant anguish that preserves Our world. Thou as resistlessly wast born To these things as the leopard's leap to strength And beauty and fierceness, as resistlessly As women are to love,—even though they know Pain for the end, yet, knowing, still must love. Ah, quickly pass! Why shouldst thou linger here Vainly? How will it serve God's purpose in thee To tarry soothing for her transient hour Merely a woman's heart, meanwhile perhaps Lose some great moment of thy life which once Neglected never can return." She paused And great Urjoon made answer, deeply moved: "Has my clasp slackened or hast thou perceived A waning passion in my kiss? Much more My soul needs thee than on that fated day When through Bengal of the enormous streams With careless horsehooves hurrying to the East I came, a wandering prince, companioned only By courage and my sword; nor knew such flowers Were by the wayside waiting to be plucked As these dark tresses and sweet body small Of white Chitrangada. Dost thou remember? O fair young sovereign ruling with pure eyes And little fearless hand fragile and mild This strong and savage nation! Didst thou know? Didst thou expect me in thy soul? Assuredly Thy heart's first flutterings recognised their lord. And never with such gladness mountain queen Exchanged tremendous seat and austere powers, Her noble ancient right, for only leave To lay her head upon my feet and wear My kisses, not the crown. Content with love
All else thou gavest. Now thou speakest sadly, Too like a mind matured by thought and pain." And she with passion cried: "Do I remember? Yes, I remember. What other thing can I Remember, till forgetfulness arrives? O endless moments, O rain-haunted nights, When thou art far! And O intolerable, The grey austere discomfortable dawn To which I shall awake alone! And yet This year of thee is mine until the end. The Gods demand the rest. With all myself I loved thee, not as other women do, Piecemeal, reluctantly, but my whole heart And being like a sudden spring broke forth To flowers and greenness at my sungod's touch, Ceding existence at thy feet. Therefore I praise my father's wise and prescient love That kept me from the world for thee, unsought Amid the rugged mountains and fenced in With barbarous inhospitable laws. Around the dying man the torches flared From pillar to weird pillar; and one discerned In fitful redness on the shadowy walls Stone visages of grim un-Aryan gods. The marble pallor of my father's face Looked strange to me in that unsteady glare, As if an alien's; and dream-fantasies Those figures seemed of Manipurian lords Strange-weaponed, rude, with faces fierce and gnarled, Like those they worship. Unafraid I stood With grave and wide-orbed gaze contemplating Their rugged pomp and the wild majesty Of that last scene around my dying sire. About me stood a circle fierce and strong, Men high like rough gnarled trees or firm squat towers; A human fortress in its savage strength Enringed my future with bright jealous spears.
To them he entrusted me, calling each name, And made their hearts my steps to mount a throne: Each name was made a link in a great chain, A turretted gate inwalling my rule, Each heart a house of trust, a seal of fealty. So were their thoughts conciliated; so Their stern allegiance was secured. He spoke, And, though of outward strength deprived, his voice Rang clear yet as when over trumpets heard It guided battle. Warriors of my East, Take now this small white-bosomed queen of yours, Surround her with the cincture of your force And guard her from the thieves of destiny Who prowl around the house of human life To impoverish the meanings of the gods. For I am ended and the shadow falls. She is the stem from which your kings shall grow Perpetual. Guard her well lest Fate deceived Permit unworthier to usurp her days Than the unconquerable seed of gods. Oppose, oppose all alien entry here, Whether by force or guile the stranger comes, To clutch Nature's forbidden golden fruit. Serry your bucklers close to overwhelm The invader, seal your deaf and pitiless ears To the guest's appeal, the suppliant call. He sole, Darling of Fate and Heaven, shall break through all Despising danger's threat and spurning death, To grasp this prize, whether Ixvacou's clan Yield a new Rama or the Bhoja hear And raven for her beauty,—Vrishny-born, Or else some lion's whelp of those who lair In Hustina the proud, coveting two worlds, Leaping from conquered earth to climb to Heaven, Life's pride doubling with the soul's ethereal crown.' He closed his eyes against the earthly air, The last silence fell on him: he spoke no more
Save the great name until his spirit passed. Then the grim lords forgot their savage calm. A cry arose, Our queen!' and I was caught From breast to breast of wild affection; all Crowded upon me kissing feet and hands, Recording silent oaths of love. Secure, Alone in this wild faithful barbarous world, I ruled by weakness over rugged hearts, A little queen adored,—until at length Thou camest. Rumour and wide-mouthed alarm Running before thy chariot-wheels thou cam'st, Defeat and death thy envoys and a cry: O Manipurians, Manipurians, arm! Some god incensed invades you,—surely a god Incensed and fatal, for his bowstring huge Sounds like the crack of breaking worlds and thick His arrows as the sleet descends of doom When the great Serpent wakes in wrath. Behind That cry the crash of hostile advent came, Thy chariot caked with mire and blood, its roof Bristling and shattered from the fight, thy steeds White with the spume of leagues, though yet they neighed Lusting for speed and battle, and in the car Thy grandiose form o'ertowering common mould, While victory shone from eyes where thunder couched Above his parent lightning. Swift to arms My warriors sprang, dismayed but faithful, swift Around me grew a hedge of steel. Enraged, Thy coursers shod with wind rushed foaming on And in with crash and rumour stormed the car To that wide stone-paved hall; there loudly paused, While thunderous challenge of the stamping hooves Claimed all the place. Clanging thou leapedst down, Urjoon, Gandiva in thy threatening grasp. Then I beheld thy face, then rose, then stretched My arms out, pausing not to think what god Compelled me from my throne. But war came in
Between me and those sudden eyes. One bold Beyond his savage peers stood questioning forth: Who art thou that with challenge insolent Intruding, from what land of deathless gods Stormest with disallowed exulting wheels In white Chitrangada's domain? To death Men hasten not so quickly, Aryan lord.' Hero, thy look was calm, yet formidable, Replying, by thy anger undisturbed. To death I haste indeed, but not to mine. Nor think that Doom has claimed me for her own Because I sole confront you. For my name Ask the pale thousands whose swift-footed fear Hardly escaped my single onset; ask Your famous chieftains cold on hill or moor Upon my fatal route. Yet not for war I sought this region nor by death equipped, Inhospitable people who deny The human bond, but as a man to men Alone I came and without need of fear, If fear indeed were mine to feel. Nor trumpets blared My coming nor battalions steel enforced, Who claimed but what the common bond allows.'"
Part IV : Calcutta and Chandernagore (1907-1910) > Narrative Poems Published in 1910
How to read the color-coded changes below? 1. SABCL version : lines with any changes & specific changes 2. CWSA version : lines with any changes & specific changes
NOTES FROM EDITOR
1909-10. This incomplete poem is related in theme and form to “Uloupie” (see above, Part Two), which Sri Aurobindo wrote around 1901-2. The manuscript of “Uloupie” was confiscated by the police in 1908 and never returned. There were, however, two draft passages of the poem in a notebook that Sri Aurobindo had with him in 1909-10, and he apparently drew on these to write Chitrangada. Many of the lines in the final version are identical or almost identical to those in the draft passages. Sometime before he left Bengal in February 1910, he gave the manuscript of Chitrangada to the Karmayogin staff for publication. The poem appeared in that newspaper in the issues of 26 March and 2 April 1910. “To be continued” was printed at the end of the second instalment, but the issue in which it appeared was the last to come out. The manuscript of the rest of the poem has been lost. Around 1930, one of Sri Aurobindo's disciples typed the incomplete poem out from the Karmayogin and sent it to Sri Aurobindo, who expressed some dissatisfaction with it. In 1937 he indicated that the poem required some revision before it could be published, but that it was “not the moment” for that. More than a decade later, he revised Chitrangada for publication in the 1949 number of the Sri Aurobindo Circle annual. The following note was printed along with the Circle text: “Sri Aurobindo had completed this poem but the original has been lost, only this fragment remains. It has been revised for publication.” The revision considerably enlarged the passage containing the speech of Chitrangada's “dying sire”. The new lines appear to be the last poetical lines Sri Aurobindo composed, with the exception of the final revisions and additions to Savitri.
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