inspiration and very luminous. Something undeniably original, this time, what?Sri Aurobindo
Letters of Sri Aurobindo
Volume 2. 1936
Letter ID: 1645
Sri Aurobindo — Nirodbaran Talukdar
June 7, 1936
A poem for you. I hope you will make out in it the fall of Adam (soul) from the garden of Eden. But what is it – symbolic, mystic or cystic?
Symbolic mystic without being cryptic-cystic. Anyhow, pure inspiration and very luminous. Something undeniably original, this time, what?
A good piece of news: I find now three mules – mules, mind you, not horses – are trying to draw me on: (1) meditation, (2) silence (not of the mind but of the buccal cavity), (3) poetry.
Well, mules are very useful animals. When Badoglio’s motor-lorries broke down, he bought 20,000 mules (I won’t swear to the exact number) and they did the trick. You have 3 mules and not 20,000 – but perhaps 3 will serve.
The buccal silence I can keep off from clashing with the other two. But the collision between meditation and poetry is inevitable unless I favour one of them.
There are three ways of meeting that situation – (1) say “Yes, yes” to both parties,– but that may create trouble afterwards, (2) Be cryptic-cystic in your answers, so that neither will be sure what you mean, (3) silence with an occasional profound “Ah, hum. Yes, eh!” “Ah hum” always sounds unfathomable depths – and if “Yes” is too positive, “eh” tones it down and corrects it. You have not enough worldly wisdom.
I shall try with all my nerves to concentrate as far as practicable – and I get also some not quite definitely pleasing sensation out of it.
Well, that is good – I hope the indefinite will soon define itself.
As poetry also has come, I wouldn’t like to give it up either. But how to harmonise?
No need to harmonise by any set arrangement – only keep up the concentration. One hour of packed concentration or even a few minutes can do as much as three hours less packed. Do you say yours is not packed? Well, striped, streaked, spotted, dotted or whatever it may be.
And do you “like to think” that it is all due to your march forward?
Of course I like and it may even be true.
By the way, my “tamasic vairagya” seems to be an epidemic. J also has the same symptoms.
That kind of vairagya is not new with J, so you need not take the credit of it.
She also added that Death would be a delivery from all these troubles and a renewal of this life.
What an idea! She would have the same things to face with less favourable conditions for overcoming them.
Please ask blessed Time to stand still behind you till your pen has run a 50 mile-gallop on this sheet.
Time can’t stand still, but I have tried to make the fellow trot slower instead of cantering – with no great result.
[Dilip sent my Bengali poem: ālor pākhi (The Bird of Light)1 to Sri Aurobindo, saying: O Guru, Nirod has written a fine poem – albeit in a rather sad vein. The word-music is beautiful, what? No change I found necessary. Last night’s result – the moonlight, voyez-vous?]
Nirod’s poem is exceedingly beautiful, full of the moonlight – he can’t say any longer after that that he is not a poet.
1 Swapnadīp, p. 17.