Collected Poems

The Mahatmas

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Kuthumi

(This poem is purely a play of the imagination, a poetic reconstruction of the central idea only of Mahatmahood.)

The seven mountains and the seven seas
Surround me. Over me the eightfold sun
Blazing with various colours—green and blue,
Scarlet and rose, violet and gold and white,
And the dark disk that rides in the mortal cave—
Looks down on me in flame. Below spread wide
The worlds of the immortals, tier on tier,
Like a great mountain climbing to the skies,
And on their summit Shiva dwells. Of old
My goings were familiar with the earth,
The mortals over whom I hold control

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Were then my fellows. But I followed not
The usual path, the common thoughts of men.
A thirst of knowledge and a sense of power,
A passion of divine beneficence
Pursued me through a hundred lives. I rose
From birth to birth, until I reached the peak
Of human knowledge. Then in Bharat born
I, Kuthumi, the Kshatriya, the adept,
The mighty Yogin of Dwaipayan's school,
To Vyása came, the great original sage.
He looked upon me with the eye that sees
And smiled, august and awful. "Kuthumi,"
He cried, "now gather back what thou hast learned
In many lives, remember all thy past,
Cease from thy round of human births, resume
The eightfold power that makes a man as God,
Then come again and learn thy grandiose work,
For thou art of the souls to death denied."
I went into the mountains by the sea
That thunders pitilessly from night to morn,
And sung to by that rude relentless sound,
Amid the cries of beasts, the howl of winds,
Surrounded by the gnashing demon hordes,
I did the Hathayoga in three days,
Which men with anguish through ten lives effect,—
Not that now practised by earth's feebler race,
But that which Rávan knew in Lunca, Dhruv
Fulfilled, Hiranyakashipu performed,
The Yoga of the old Lemurian Kings.
I felt the strength of Titans in my veins,
The joy of gods, the pride of Siddhas. Tall
And mighty like a striding God I came
To Vyása; but he shook his dense piled locks,
Denying me. "Thou art not pure," he cried.
I went in anger to Himâloy 's peaks,
And on the highest in the breathless snows
Sat dumb for many years. Then knowledge came

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Streaming upon me and the hills around
Shook with the feet of the descending power.
I did the Rájayoga in three days,
Which men with care and accuracy minute
Ceaselessly follow for an age in vain—
Not Kali's Rájayoga, but the means
Of perfect knowledge, purity and force
Bali the Titan learned and gave to men,
The Yoga of the old Atlantic Kings.
I came to Vyása, shining like a sun.
He smiled and said, "Now seek the world's great Lord,
Sri Krishna, where he lives on earth concealed;
Give up to him all that thou knowst and art.
For thou art he, elect from mortal men
To guard the Knowledge,—yet an easy task
While the third Age preserves man's godlike force,—
But when thou seest the iron Kali come,
And he from Dwarca leaves the earth, know then
The time of trial, help endangered Man,
Preserve the knowledge that preserves the world,
Until Sri Krishna utterly returns.
Then art thou from thy mighty work released
Into the worlds of bliss for endless years
To rest, until another aeon comes,
When of the seven Rishis thou art one."
I sent my knowledge forth across the land;
It found him not in Bharat's princely halls,
In quiet asrams, nor in temples pure,
Nor where the wealthy traffickers resort;
Brahmin nor Kshatriya body housed the Lord,
Vaishya nor Sudra nor outcaste. At length
To a bare hut on a wild mountain's verge
Led by the star I came. A hermit mad
Of the wild Abhirs, who sat dumb or laughed,
And ran and leaped and danced upon the hills,
But told the reason of his joy to none,—
In him I saw the Lord, behind that mask

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Perceived the Spirit that contains the worlds.
I fell before him, but he leaped and ran
And smote me with his foot, and out of me
All knowledge, all desire, all strength was gone
Into its Source. I sat, an infant child.
He laughed aloud and said, "Take back thy gifts,
O beggar!" and went leaping down the slope.
Then full of light and strength and bliss I soared
Beyond the spheres, above the mighty gods,
And left my human body on the snows;
And others gathered to me, more or less
In puissance, to assist, but mine the charge
By Vishnu given. I gather knowledge here,
Then to my human frame awhile descend
And walk mid men, choosing my instruments,
Testing, rejecting and confirming souls,
Vessels of the Spirit; for the golden age
In Kali comes, the iron lined with gold.
The Yoga shall be given back to men,
The sects shall cease, the grim debates die out,
And Atheism perish from the earth
Blasted with knowledge, love and brotherhood
And wisdom repossess Sri Krishna's world.

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