“The song I came to sing
remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing
and in unstringing my instrument.”
From ‘Gitanjali’ (গীতাঞ্জলি)
Reading Tagore is seeing life more clearly, hearing life more sweetly, living life more completely.
His songs enable us to be more creative in our thinking and doing, to be more compassionate in our feelings and dealings.
And more at peace with ourselves, and the world.
Rabindranath Tagore is considered the greatest creative artist of modern India, whose seemingly mesmeric personality, flowing hair, and otherworldly dress earned him a prophet-like reputation. His elegant prose, magical poetry and mellifluous compositions still spellbind us beyond ethereal horizons.
A humble attempt to pay tribute to the maestro on his 152nd Birth Anniversary:
Auroras of emerald and jade
Contoured the emotively beautiful sky,
And I sat in marvel,
For me, it felt like a melody
That only the heavens could hear.
For it moved me,
Danced into my soul with a symphony
That only my heart could hear.
I imagined it
Musing, humming, and just being alive—
Brilliantly supreme, it only knew how.
I saw it celebrating life, living it:
Flutes, hymns, rhymes, of love and of light,
A genius conjuror in a white robe,
Blithely swirling the unknown vastness.
It felt like some eclectic music flowing from afar,
With a promise of eternal gifts.
I tried demystifying it,
But I don’t think I can ever fully grasp it.
Still I couldn’t resist this harmonic temptation:
Of being held captive by this magnetism and the air,
Of colliding and bursting into an epicurean light,
Of glowing into a lamp of glory and amity,
Of inspiring awe and colour.
It amazed me,
Just stumped me to numbness:
How a few verses read from stained papers,
How a few tunes flowing from an antique record player,
Could enamour me, stirring me this deeply
Without actually ever witnessing in person!
It spoke beyond the cursives and beyond the quavers,
Reaching somewhere within me, beyond me,
Staying with me, long after the hourglass had run its course.
It does so
By simply being what it is,
And by what it has shown me, like always:
An inspiration, a saintly apparition,
A window, a fascinating door to things unperceived,
A guiding radiant light with a flawless soul.
I see it now:
As a musing poet, with his unsaid words and unwritten scripts.
As a beamish composer, stitching idyllic notes with native lyrics.
As a benign artist, choosing to paint with vivid lights and energy.
As a parent cuddling his child, with ink and melody.
I may not fully understand this feeling.
It is an enigma to me,
How it charms, how it glows!
If there is ever a sound that goes with it,
Or only timeless silence, I wonder.
I’ve always wanted to write about this radiance,
But never found the right words, the right order.
I still struggle while untangling it,
Has touched many, in ways and magnitudes countless.
This rising emotion, this gentle divinity,
This beautiful Light with a Soul,
This belief in liveliness, this sense and smell—
I was blessed to feel it, to catch glimpses of it
In this mortal lifetime.
With divinity this ageless pleasance shall blend,
Where the soul finds peace and the songs never end,
And in that paradise of delight, shall Tagore forever scend.