Chaitanya and Mira

Act One — Aspiration

1510 A. D. Evening. Sachi Devi is seen performing her daily devotions before her cherished Ishtadeva—a marble image of Lord Vishnu who was incarnated as Sri Krishna and later, as she believed, as Sri Chaitanya. Her worship over, she offers flowers at His feet when Sri Chaitanya enters hesitantly and waits in silence. His mother turns and gives an involuntary start.

SRI CHAITANYA
Mother, I...

SACHI

Yes, my son?

SRI CHAITANYA

I have been thinking.........

SACHI (anxiously)

You are not unwell, I hope?

SRI CHAITANYA

Oh, nothing: be not alarmed.

I only meant: I wished I were in that mood

Which lights on you when you are gripped by an ailment

In which your inmost soul flowers out in feeling,

Although the worldly-wise shake their great heads.

At such bloom-bursts and call them sentimental.

SACHI (heaving a sigh of relief)
I am glad you are well. How you did frighten me!

SRI CHAITANYA (forcing a smile)
Ah, that is why I said ... but never mind.

SACHI (drawing near and scanning his face)
What is it ails you?

(She pauses/or a few seconds expectantly)

And why this hesitation?

SRI CHAITANYA

Because ... one dreads to hurt those one adores ...
And I adore you. Mother!

SACHI (alarmed)

But what's all this?
And how could such a strange thought cross your mind?
Do I not know you too well to believe
Or even imagine you to be capable
Of hurting me — you, who never could hurt a fly?

SRI CHAITANYA (giving a quizzical look)
But are you sure?

SACHI

I know not what you mean.
You are so ... far away I... I almost feel
As though I never knew you truly, Gora,
You — whom I have known these four and twenty years!

SRI CHAITANYA (smiling ironically)

Ah, there you are! And yet do we not claim
A mother knows the inmost thoughts of one
She has borne and nursed even as the honey-bee
Must know the shiest murmur of the bud
Which opes at morn to greet her humming lover?

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SACHI (gathering herself together)

I implore you, Gora, not to alarm me so.
I am only a common woman who understands
The simplest things — the things all women know.
I have only claimed I knew you as a mother
Who bore a child and reared him day by day
Could not help knowing, seeing him slowly grow
Under her eyes toward the skies of Gods
From whom she got him — a boon and sacred trust;

And there my claim ends ...

(Her voice quavers)

For... do I not know
Who you are, son, and who's the thing that calls
Herself your mother? Could I help but know
That I am a mere lamp whose flame you are,
A dim frail stem whose one mission is to help
The hundred-petalled lotus to bloom in light?
I never claimed a lamp could understand
The flame ... no more than a stem could understand
The bud it bears till it has blossomed out.

SRI CHAITANYA (bowing his head)

Mother ... forgive me, pray... I stand rebuked.
But will you not believe — I never intended
To hint I was superior as the flame
Is superior to the lamp? Nor am I sure
That any flame that ever shed its dimmest
Spark-glint upon the dark would dare disclaim
Its native kinship with its source and haven,
Sundered from which it never could realise
Its self of gleam — no more than could the lotus
Grow to its full-blown beauty baulked of the stem.

(His voice becomes thick with emotion)
To you I owe not only this my body
Which naught but a mother's angel tenderness
And mysterious overawing solicitude
For a thing unmet — for a refugee from worlds

She had not even glimpsed — could ever dream
Of offering her hospitality,

An enduring shelter in her blood, her heart-beat,
To fashion, out from an amorphous speck,
A being of sentient beauty and answering
Its helpless, half-inconscient cry to be born
With a vow born of an equal mystic hunger
To sustain, augment it, throb by throb, with all
Her fabulous patience — nourish, vindicate
With every spasm of her nerves and flesh
And the holiest sap of her being's virgin core...

(His eyes glisten as he meets her eyes .......m
Yes, I owe you mother, not such a body alone,
But even how much of what I call my will,
My moods, my mind ... and what else — do I know?
Can ever one know a thing down to its roots,
The Ultimate Purpose — working as a leaven,
Transforming momently, relentlessly
This multitudinous hurtling play of life?

(He shakes his head ruefully)
And yet we claim we know and act from knowledge
Not even knowing what knowledge signifies!
And who knows ... maybe it was so intended
That this our mysteried play of sparks of peace
At war with oceans of eddying, roaring passion,
Of love-sprouts lashed by blasts of demon hail
And yet surviving ... (a grim spectacle
Of inconceivable grandeur — a miracle
Wrought by Krishna, the Wizard!) ... this mighty drama
Of the Timeless unrolling on Time's wheeling stage
Of the fathomless Sphinx who pilots us through this
Our inescapable maze of paradoxes
That face us, dog us even as our own shadows.

(He lifts his eyes to hers)
Or ... may be ... we do know something after all
Even when we strive in vain to voice it, mother!
Why else do we go on participating

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In this lila of bubbles, this cosmic dance of hues,
This kaleidoscopic may a we hug as Life!

(He goes on abstractedly as though in a muse)
Why else do we uphold it, new-create
Symbols and sounds and words... why else, when baffled
At every turn, do we still probe, explore!
Or can it be: we give to the deepest things
Some names or labels that through these we may clutch
At a momentary respite from despair!
Or that through their perfidious picturesqueness
We may escape from the abysmal pain
And shame of our ignorance!

(He suddenly comes to and meets his mother's anxious eyes')

Forgive me, mother!
I ought to have known — only I know no better.

(He gives an ironical smile of self-pity)
But it's an ill wind blows none any good.
So you do see at long last, do you not,
How ignorant I am — your idol, whom
You exalted now?

(He heaves a deep breath; his irony changes into bitterness)
And yet they will proclaim:

I am a great pundit drunk with the ruby wine

Of knowledge!— Knowledge indeed! Do I not know

How little is the difference, in the end,

Between my knowledge and the multitude's

In the eye of God in Heaven? Is not the tallest

Peak and the lowliest cottage equidistant

From the sun on high?

(He gives her a look of deep reproach)

But do you know, good mother,
Who came to spoil me most?— Your doting heart.
You turned my head, even more than did the others.
Insisting I was a deep initiate
In the primal lore of light and wisdom born
Of the summit vision given but to the giants.
But I tell you it's all futile, futile, futile:

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My scholarship, my learning and my knowledge
Even as a painted flame which apes the fire
But sheds nor warmth nor light. And that is why
I come to you tonight to ask you — something.

SACHI (beads of perspiration breaking out on her forehead)
I am waiting, Gora!
(A slight pause)

Why do you not speak?

SRI CHAITANYA
Because ... I quail to ask you ...

SACHI (tilting his face up with trembling hands)

Look up, my son!
You quail to ask me — me, for anything?
Or am I dreaming?

(She hugs him, drowning his face in her heaving bosom)

Know you not, my child,
Who — what you are to me — my life and heart
And the hub of my universe? ... How could you, Gora?
Can I deny you anything on earth?

SRI CHAITANYA
You can ... and that is why I said: I quailed.

SACHI (with an involuntary shudder)

Oh, keep me no more in this agony of suspense.
Better the storm released than this pent hush.
Come, speak your mind ... Or do you take me for
A sentimental woman whose only strength
Lies in exhibiting her tears and sighs?

SRI CHAITANYA (desperately)

Then, mother, listen: I want to leave my home
To sing the name of Krishna, my Beloved,
From door to door — a wandering mendicant.

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SACHI (stammering)
You ... you will... what? ... I... I... what did you say?

SRI CHAITANYA (avoiding her eyes)

Mother ... I long to leave my all for Krishna
Whose call I have heard. And He enjoins on me
To beg henceforth for food from day to day
And to become a beggar in His name.

SACHI

You mean ... you will... leave ... me ...
(Tears choke her voice as she stares at him)

SRI CHAITANYA (nodding ruefully)

You see why now
I said I quailed... knowing how this must come
To you as a dagger-thrust from a loved one
To whom you opened your dear arms to hug.

SACHI (gazing at him like one stunned)
I... understand ... but oh, what shall I say?
(She steps back and rivets her eyes on the image)

SRI CHAITANYA (placing his hand appealingly on her shoulder)

Mother ... forgive me ... listen, I implore!
For what can I say either — if you look
So lost and broken-hearted? You know
I cannot go without your sanction and blessing.
But... mother mine! Oh, take it not so hard.
Listen: I know — you are one in a million,
By nature brave ... but now you must be braver.
I know you are love itself... I know you love me
As the breeze loves blooms ... adore me even as skies
Adore the sun ... cherish me as the old
Cherish the thrill of youth that is no more,
Depend on me like the acolyte on faith,

Or the initiate on his Guru ...
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(He pauses and heaves a sigh)

Have I not felt,
Since the day I uttered my first infant cry,
Your eyes of steadfast tenderness around me
Even as the budding blossom feels the tender
Circumambient greeting of spring with all
Its native welcome — generous, unbargaining —

(halting again and shaking his head)
But no — how could one limn with similes
What a child owes to its mother? Can such debts
Be ever repaid?

(He looks at her and drops his voice)

But then who'd dare repay
One's breath with breath-born thanks? I only pray:

You may not deem me an ingrate, a pitiful

Renegade who would shun his faith for lucre,

Or a lover who loves for the thrill of drama it brings?

(He lowers his voice)
I voiced my inmost feeling now because ...
But how shall one explain the inexplicable?
Can one ever know how sound breaks into song,
Or anguish at its peak dissolves in bliss?
I only ask you, mother, to plumb my pain
With the pain I know I must occasion you now,
When I desire release from what I have grown
To count as precious day by day ... I know
You are a noble mother, and so, today,
You are called to be nobler still, and understand
What I find hard to explain — being impelled
Now by an urge I fail to fathom myself.
For although I hear my Beloved calling me,
I know not whither, through what devious paths,
He is leading me — to which last gleaming Goal.
I only know: my yearning to my heart's
One Lord is authentic even as the mother's
For her child she worships and adores, and so
I adjure you, mother mine, to ... let me go

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(A silence intervenes during which Sachi stands staring at
him unseeingly ... Suddenly her eyes are drowned in
tears and she turns round again to face the image and
covers her face in her hands.)

SRI CHAITANYA (moving up to her and drawing her to him)
O mother! ... Listen, it's this I dread most:

Your tears ... You do not know how weak I am.
I cannot bear to see you cry in pain.
O mother!

(She disengages herself/row his embrace and wipes her eyes)

Can you not understand why I
Feel thus constrained to eschew all I have cherished,
You who have known what is the call of God?

SACHI (passionately)

And child! Can you not understand why I
Feel even as a stalk whose flower is gone
And how I have long forgot my Gods in Heaven
For the one and only God who is — my Gora?

(She turns round once more upon the image of Vishnu)
Forgive me. Lord! And be not hard on me:

For you must know, 0 Resident of my heart,
How a God-believer you yourself made Godless
By giving her one who has usurped your place
Till she thought you were a projection of himself
And yet feel nor a qualm of shame — compunction!
Strange are your ways, my Lord, that you, a God,
Should suffer a human form to overshadow
Your Divinity itself and make it grow
Till the deputy seems taller than the King!

(She gives an involuntary shudder)
But what am I saying? Forgive me, give me strength:

I must not make a scene nor beat my breast,
For I am not a common woman — I
Who have given the Ethereal to earth and borne
A human rival of yourself who, strangely,

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Means more to earthlings than your Unborn Self!

(She turns to her son)
You said, son, I must understand. Believe me:

I am not blind but — frail and weak. For listen:

I'll tell you what I have kept, as a fearful secret,
Even from you. 'Tis not imagination
That fails me now: 'tis only the irony
That cuts so deep into my derelict soul.
For I knew always: I would be a naught
And stay a naught without you all my life,
And my one mission was to bring to birth

(indicating the image of Vishnu)

His God-stuff that's your soul and breath and self.

In my dream I saw Him when I was a virgin.

He said: "You shall give a birth to a son who's one

With Light and Bliss derived from my quintessence,

Descended from a world but few have glimpsed .

Rear him until he comes into his own.

His kingdom of Love Divine — when he will come
To implore you, his one guardian, to let him cut
The chains that will have bound him to his mother
And wife and friends and what men call the world,
To redeem the world. On that great fateful day
You shall unyoke him from his obligations
That he may fulfil the mission of his life:

To bring to men the message of my Love
They grope for, blind, in their egos' primal dark.
This, by his selfless life, he'll show to all
And prove the Eye of Light to humankind.
Your sight you'll then be called to sacrifice
For others, 0 blessed virgin, who are chosen
To accept a pain to deliver the world from pain."
And then, as hushed the deep-toned Organ Voice,
I woke to find my pillow wet with tears.
A fear then seized me — I cried out in pain:

"Why must you. Lord, ask those to carry your banner
Who cannot bear its weight for a moment? How

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Can you expect a heart to behave like stone?
The mother in me will never, never be able
To rear a son and then bid him farewell."

(She half closes her eyes)

Just then, I visioned a strange Face: 'twas human,
And yet 'twas made of something that was in essence
Pure light. Its eyes, dark with reproach, met mine,
I felt overawed and, as the Face drew near
And nestled in me, time stood bewitched. I hugged
It close till it broke out in a cry of pain.
Startled, I looked when lo, I saw you Gora:

Just as you looked on the day you saw the light:

That exquisite, unforgettable face and the self-same

Timbre of voice that was a mystic thrill!

And then, as you, my child, clutched at my breast,

Milk spouted — 'twas no fancy I tell you, son!

Since, when I woke, I found my bed was drenched

With the milk that had outflowed for my dream child.

But no, it was no dream, for nothing I ever

Have seen in my waking moments has seemed more

Vivid, nor sounded any human voice

More real than yours I heard on that dread day,

That fateful day, when you, my child divine,

Appealed to me, a mortal mother, in pain:

"I would be born from out your holy womb:

Will you not have me, mother?" I kissed your Face

And cried: "I will, my darling! I'll defy

Aeons of torture if I may but hold

And nurse you at my breast for a single hour.

I will hail you and promise, in return,

I will not falter now in self-love nor

Claim to possess you and will let you go

When you, to companion those who have need of you,

Will consign me to my utter loneliness."

(She looks longingly at her son's face)
And abide I will now by my word — if I
Be blinded by the tears, I know, I'll shed,

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Abandoned by you. For know I not that light
Cannot consort with gloom, nor truth with falsehood?
Who hails from the world of beauty and bliss must fare
To his kin and counterparts. For only they
Can claim you truly and not I, a woman
Who, strangely, bore to earth a starlike soul!

SRI CHAITANYA
Oh, speak not in this strain. You do not know ...

SACHI (giving a melancholy smile)

But it is true, son, as I told you now:

You were given to me as fire is given to flint. ...
A myth incredible which yet came to pass:

An Emperor as guest in a beggar's hut!

But a guest is not a resident: he comes

Only to go. ... When the brief blessed hour

Shall pass as must all interludes divine

In this our world which cannot house such bliss

For long ... then what? I know not... for, alas,

I am but an ignorant... a common woman;

I cannot see, child, what will happen when

You, my one world, will leave me, wandering back

To your great worlds — leaving no world for me.

SRI CHAITANYA

Mother, how can you wail you are a common
And ignorant woman? Could unconsciousness
Give birth to a soul of dauntless aspiration?
A timid heart beget celestial courage,
A dead sun flash out from the mirror of moon?
Could a common woman feel as you have felt?
And then, how could I ever abandon you
Who nursed me with your milk of tenderness?
Release I seek not to fare far from you
But to come nearer — through your own deep pain
And the pain of all who need Sri Krishna's Grace.

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No love that joins a soul to soul on earth

Can ever be mocked. And is not bliss our birthright?

We were not tossed into this our world of pain

To deepen its gloom with our unending sight

But to transfigure it with the touch of One

Who writes love-letters with the alphabet of stars,

Whose Lustre redeems frozen ash with fire,

Whose Flute ever echoes in the heart of rocks

And laughter makes our tears outgleam in rainbows

As the mystic Force in the seed transforms the mire's

Dark anarchy into a kingdom of radiant blooms.

(He smiles beatifically and embraces her)
You bore me not to have but a brief reprieve
From an arid living. Krishna visits earth,
From age to age in guises few can guess,
Nor as a chance guest nor for a passing whim:

Everytime He comes to set the stage
To produce a new play deep with His own Purpose.
I know not what is that last denouement:

For which the Lord puts on a human mask:

But this I know that His great Cosmic Lila
Has not for its end an epilogue of sighs
Preluded by a phantom harmony.
I know, for His Flute sings in my heart of hearts:

"No pain is fortuitous, nor a revel mood

Of a ruthless Devil — still less of a lunatic

Omnipotence toying with sentient puppets,

Who cannot help but act like marionettes

Or sinners who will cringe to Him for pity

And even thank Him for His lunacy."

This too I know: no sigh that once has waked

In an aspiring soul for Krishna's Grace

Can fall asleep again: He never comes

To plough the soil of human destiny

But He leaves behind a Trail when He withdraws

Which survives in the sunken world of memory

Until He visits with a new downsurge

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To create a deeper furrow in our lone
Vale of despond. And that is why His Flute-call,
Stronger than destiny, now wrenches me
Away from you and all I cherish still.
I have heard the Call: I know not yet the Goal.
But this I know that you (who have given me
To earth that I may bring to her His Love)
Losing your claim on me, would hold me closer
Than ever you could by clinging fast to me
For the little world of worldliness and clamour
To which I have been an alien since my birth.
So weep no more, I give you my solemn pledge.
You shall see me whenever you'll call to me.

(He falls prostrate at her feet... She stoops and hugs
his head to her bosom)

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