...Religio-Philosophical Deliberations...Mystical Poetic Portents...SachaMassaGonna Dastafari remixes and musical meanderings through sound, inspiration and prema-bhakti...
In honor of Mother India here are some poems by the Premavatar Sri Paramhansa Yoganandaji...
My India
Not where the musk of happiness blows, Not where darkness and fears never tread; Not in the homes of perpetual smiles, Nor in the heaven of a land of prosperity Would I be born If I must put on mortal garb once more.
Dread famine may prowl and tear my flesh, Yet would I love to be again In my Hindustan. A million thieves of disease May try to steal the body’s fleeting health; And clouds of fate May shower scalding drops of searing sorrow – Yet would I there, in India, Love to reappear!
Is this love of mine blind sentiment That sees not the pathways of reason? Ah, no! I love India, For there I learned first to love God and all things beautiful. Some teach to seize the fickle dewdrop, life, Sliding down the lotus leaf of time; Stubborn hopes are built Around the gilded, brittle body-bubble. But India taught me to love
The soul of deathless beauty in the dewdrop and the bubble – Not their fragile frames. Her sages taught me to find my Self, Buried beneath the ash heaps Of incarnations of ignorance. Though many a land of power, plenty, and science My soul, garbed sometimes as an Oriental, Sometimes as an Occidental, Travelled far and wide, Seeking Itself; At last, in India, to find Itself.
Though mortal fires raze all her homes and golden paddy fields, Yet to sleep on her ashes and dream immortality, O India, I will be there! The guns of science and matter Have boomed on her shores Yet she is unconquered. Her soul is free evermore! Her soldier saints are away, To rout with realization’s ray The bandits of hate, prejudice, and patriotic selfishness; And to burn the walls of separation dark Between children of the One, One Father. The Western brothers by matter’s might have conquered my land;
Blow, blow aloud, her conch shells all! India now invades with love, To conquer their souls.
Better than Heaven or Arcadia I love Thee, O my India! And thy love I shall give To every brother nation that lives. God made the earth; Man made confining countries And their fancy-frozen boundaries. But with newfound boundless love I behold the borderland of my India Expanding into the world. Hail, mother of religions, lotus, scenic beauty, And sages! Thy wide doors are open, Welcoming God’s true sons through all ages. Where Ganges, woods, Himalayan caves, and men dream God – I am hallowed; my body touched that sod.
*blognote: These were the last word uttered by the Master before merged into the Infinite.
If I Visit India
After four and ten years, when I behold Thee, My India,
I shall roll in the dust at Thy Feet,
And I shall behold the scenes where childhood laughed, wept, and dreamed.
And I shall weep for the familiar flowers of faces that are plucked from the vase of my gaze,
And I shall stand, as of yore, with folded hands under the temple of sheoli leaves,
Where the tree willingly dropped blossoms on the altar of the grass,
Where my tears commingled with the fragrant, devoted dew
To wash the feet of Thy Light.
And I shall go places where I was not allowed to go before
Because I was a little boy.
And I shall touch the sod where the faded footprints of my beloved Gurus and parents sleep,
And I shall see the dear faces made sad by my forgetfulness and the despair of never seeing me again.
They will gleam with the joy of seeing me come to life once more.
I shall return to those places where I wept for God and
Waited long for Him, expectant, doubt-filled, sorrow-filled,
Anguish-filled, despair-filled, only to laugh and wildly dance
In ecstasy of unexpected meetings, when I least anticipated His Presence.
Ah, those dreams, beloved dreams, forgotten, darling dreams,
I shall dream again in the sweet company of India.
India and I played, wept, and laughed together.
India and I will play, laugh, weep, pray, and dance in ecstasy together again.
I shall behold every little, dark, forgotten niche
Where memory will rekindle the light of faded candles of experiences,
And I shall behold the same sky and moon,
And embrace the same breeze laden with the fragrant living God
Blossomed into Being in the garden of devotion of the great Masters.
And if I see India once more,
I shall blush to hear again from Her Lips
Of my first love, of my love for the Most Beloved of all.
*blognote: Inner Culture, May 1935. The Master apparently said that He would reincarnate again in the future within the Himalayas and spend His whole incarnation in the bosom of their divinity with some of His close disciples.
The Genius of India
Here are some videos inspired by the words of another great Master and Rishi, Sri Aurobindo
