In the Religion of Man delivered as Hibbert Lectures at Oxford in 1930, Tagore talked about the Ideal Man, the ‘divine’ in man that infinite being, “the Father, the Friend, the Lover, whose service must be realized through serving all mankind. For the God in Man depends upon men’s service and men’s love for his own love’s fulfilment.
The question was once asked in the shade of the ancient forest of India:
Kasmai devava havisha vidhema? Who is the God to whom we must bring our oblation?
That question is still ours, and to answer it we must know in the depth of our love and the maturity of our wisdom what man is- know him not only in the sympathy but in science, in the joy of creation and in the pain of heroism: tena tyaktena bhunjitha, ‘enjoy him through sacrifice’- the sacrifice that comes of love; ma gridha, ‘covet not’; for greed diverts your mind to that illusion in you which you represent the parama purushah, ‘the supreme person’ “.
Its this central quest to seek the infinite being or the supreme person where lies man’s true objectivity action and goal. Its in this quest where all actions are planned life, birth, death and rebirth and the world knows it through the various workings of the creative mind/spirit that lifts itself from the material planes to a higher consciousness.
Rabindranath Tagore’s rare paintings that were auctioned by the Darlington Hall Trust Charity, two are presented here:
Consciousness-Analogue or Meditation on Tagore’s painting: An attempt to using Sri Aurobindian principles in The Future Poetry
In the language of the night
When the beats of the world recede into the past
And the fireflies carry with them their sailing boats
O the intruder of my sovereign heart
On what branch shall you rest your sparkling glory?
On what leaf or bole shall you rain your sweetest songs?
Summer labors into the quaint pastures of the grazing sun
And soul to soul they all are one
Indifferent to the ennui of the traveling hours,
To the tastes and sounds, images, words and smell.
These all are beauty that lies unencumbered forever
In the forests of the honeyed groves
Hridayer shure katha kay prajapati
Rater adhere, aranyer niharikay.
Jonakir phule titikshar shure
Bhara mon dhara day agni-nadir swapna-grihe.
My heart is sore I have neither seen nor heard
The singing quatrains of the cowherd of the sun
That wakes the humming bird, the sparrow and the rose
But there is something I know I say I feel
Like a serpent in a quarantine
The hoods of life arise with a fall
And every fall is the beginning of an end
And when the end comes so too near
O my friend! Shall you not hold my hand across the sea?
For death is not a question but an answer of a promise
Till the self is found where it lays its head
O my sweet dark horse of the oblivious years
Sing to me from the farthest vaults of time
So I can raise my cup to the darkling spirits
That kisses the sweet taste of honeyed tears
O my dear ones, my comrades and my countrymen
Shall you not rest in peace with the darlings lights of freedom?
Anew in a place, anew in a new time of death
Shall we not love to seek the Will evermore?
Shall we not will to seek the Golden way?
To be born Immortal from the Supramental Sun
In a world of heaven’s sage-light and seers.
- Joy Roy Choudhury