How grave he looks, how laughably old,
 How solemnly quiet among death preparations!
 Come, friends, help him to find himself before he reaches home.
 Change his pilgrim's robe into the dress of the singing youth,
 Snatch away his bag of dead things
 And confound his calculations.

(Another group sings.)

The time comes when the world shall know that you're not banished in your own shadows;
 Your heart shall burst in torrents
 Out of the clasp of the ice;
 And your North wind turn its face
 Against the haunts of the flitting phantoms.
 There sounds the magician's drum,
 And the sun waits with laughter in his glance,
 To see your grey turn into green.

(Evening)

[The rear stage is darkened; the light on the main stage dimmed to the greyness of dark.]

Band of Youths

They all cry, "There, there," and when we look for it, we find nothing but dust and dry leaves.

I thought I had a glimpse of the flag on his car through the cloud.

It is difficult to follow his track. Now it seems East: now it seems West.

And so we are tired, chasing shadows all day long. And the day has been lost.

I tell you the truth. Fear comes more and more into my mind, as the day passes.

We have made a mistake. The morning light whispered in our ears, "Bravo, march on." And now, the evening light is mocking us for that.

I am afraid we have been deceived. I am beginning to feel greater respect for Dada's quatrains than before. We shall all be soon sitting down on the ground composing quatrains.

And then the whole neighbourhood will come, swarming round us. And they will get such immense benefit from our wisdom that they will never leave us.

And we shall settle down like a great big boulder, cold and immovable.

And they will cling to us, as we sit there, like a thick fog.

What would our Leader think of us, I wonder, if he could hear us now?

I am sure it is our Leader, who has led us astray. He makes us toil for nothing, while he himself remains idle.

Let us go back and fight with him. We will tell him that we won't move a step further, but sit with our legs tucked under us. These legs are wretched vagabonds. They are always trudging the road.

We will keep our hands fast behind our backs.

There is no mischief in the back; all the trouble is in the front.

Of all our limbs, the back is the most truthful. It says to us, "Lie down."

When we are young, that braggart breast is a great swell; but, in the end, we can only rely on our back.

The little stream that flows past our village comes to my mind. That morning we thought that it said to us, "Forward! Forward!" But what it really said was, "False! False!" The world is all false.

Our Pundit used to tell us that.

We shall go straight to the Pundit, when we get back.

We shall never stir one step outside the limit of the Pundit's Scriptures.

What a mistake we made. We thought that moving itself was something heroic.

But really not to move, that is heroic, because it is defying the whole moving world.

Brave rebels that we are, we shall not move. We shall have the audacity to sit still, and never move an inch.

"Life and youth are fleeting," the Scripture says. Let life and youth go to the dogs, we shall not move.

"Our minds and wealth are fleeting," adds the Scripture. "Give them up and sit still," say we.

Let us go back to the point from which we started.

But that would be to move.

What then?

There sit down, where we have come to.

And let us imagine that there we had been before we ever came there.

Yes, yes, that will keep our minds still. If we know that we have come from somewhere else, then the mind longs for that somewhere else.

That land of somewhere else is a very dangerous place.

There the ground moves, and also the roads. But as for us——

(They sing.)

We cling to our seats and never stir,
 We allow our flowers to fade in peace, and avoid the trouble of bearing fruit.
 Let the starlights blazon their eternal folly,
 We quench our flames.
 Let the forest rustle and the ocean roar,
 We sit mute.
 Let the call of the flood-tide come from the sea,
 We remain still.

Do you hear that laughter?

Yes, yes, it is laughter.

What a relief! We have never heard that sound for an age.

We had been choking, for want of the breath of laughter.

This laughter comes to us like the April rain.

Whose is it?

Cannot you guess? It is our Chandra.

What a marvellous gift of laughter he has! It is like a waterfall. It dashes all the black stones out of the path.

It is like sunlight. It cuts the mist to pieces with its sword.

Now all danger of quatrain fever is over. Let us get up.

From this moment there will be nothing but work for us. As the Scripture says, "Everything in this world is fleeting, and he only lives who does his duty and achieves fame."

Why are you quoting that? Are you still suffering from the quatrain fever?

What do you mean by fame? Does the river take any heed of its foam? Fame is that foam on life's stream.

(Enter Chandra with a blind Minstrel.)

Well, Chandra, what makes you so glad?

Chandra

I have got the track of the Old Man.

From whom?

Chandra

From this old Minstrel.

He seems to be blind.

Chandra

Yes, that is why he has not got to seek the road.

What do you say? Shall you be able to lead us right?

Minstrel

Yes.

But how?

Minstrel

Because I can hear the footsteps.

We also have ears, but——

Minstrel

I hear with my whole being.

Chandra

They all started up with fear, when I asked about the Old Man. Only this Minstrel seemed to have no fear. I suppose because he cannot see, he is not afraid.

Minstrel

Do you know why I have no fear? When the sun of my life set, and I became blind, the dark night revealed all its lights, and, from that day forward, I have been no more afraid of the dark.

Then let us go. The evening star is up.

Minstrel

Let me sing, and walk on as I sing, and you follow me. I cannot find my way, if I do not sing.

What do you mean?

Minstrel

My songs precede, I follow.

(He sings.)

Gently, my friend, gently walk to your silent chamber.
 I know not the way, I have not the light,
 Dark is my life and my world.
 I have only the sound of your steps to guide me in this wilderness.
Gently, my friend, gently walk along the dark shore.
 Let the hint of the way come in whisper,
 Through the night, in the April breeze.
 I have only the scent of your garland to guide me in this wilderness.

ACT IV

SONG-PRELUDE

[There enter a troupe of young things, and they introduce themselves in a song as follows:]

The Song of Returning Youth

Again and again we say "Good-bye,"
 To come back again and again.
 Oh, who are you?
 I am the flower vakul.
 And who are you?
 I am the flower parul.
 And who are these?
 We are mango blossoms landed on the shore of light.
 We laugh and take leave when the time beckons us.
 We rush into the arms of the ever-returning.
 But who are you?
 I am the flower shimul.
 And who are you?
 I am the kamini bunch,
 And who are these?
 We are the jostling crowd of new leaves.

[Winter is revealed as Spring and answers to the questions put by the chorus of young things.]

The Song of Burdens Dropped

Do you own defeat at the hand of youth?
 Yes.
 Have you met at last the ageless Old, who ever grows new?
 Yes.
 Have you come out of the walls that crumble and bury those whom they shelter?
 Yes.

(Another group sings.)

Do you own defeat at the hands of life?
 Yes.
 Have you passed through death to stand at last face to face with the Deathless?
 Yes.
 Have you dealt the blow to the demon dust, that swallows your city Immortal?
 Yes.

(Spring's flowers surround him and sing.)

The Song of Fresh Beauty

We waited by the wayside counting moments till you appeared in the April morning.
 You come as a soldier-boy winning life at death's gate,—
 Oh, the wonder of it.
 We listen amazed at the music of your young voice.
 Your mantle is blown in the wind like the fragrance of the Spring.
 The white spray of malati flowers in your hair shines like star-clusters.
 A fire burns through the veil of your smile,—
 Oh, the wonder of it.
 And who knows where your arrows are hidden which smite death?

(Night)

[The rear stage is darkened, and the light on the main stage dimmed to the heavy purple blackness of mourning.]

(Enter the Band of Youths.)

Chandra has gone away again, leaving us behind.

It is difficult to keep him still.

We get our rest by sitting down, but he gets his by walking on.

He has gone across the river with the blind minstrel, in whose depth of blindness Chandra is seeking the invisible light.

That is why our Leader calls him the Diver.

Our life becomes utterly empty, when Chandra is away.

Do you feel as though something was in the air?

The sky seems to be looking into our face, like a friend bidding farewell.

This little stream of water is trickling through the casuarina grove. It seems like the tears of midnight.

We have never gazed upon the earth before with such intentness.

When we run forward at full speed, our eyes keep gazing in front of us, and we see nothing on either side of us.

If things did not move on and vanish, we should see no beauty anywhere.

If youth had only the heat of movement, it would get parched and withered. But there is ever the hidden tear, which keeps it fresh.

The cry of the world is not only "I have," but also "I give." In the first dawning light of creation, "I have" was wedded to "I give." If this bond of union were to snap, then everything would go to ruin.

I don't know where that blind Minstrel has landed us at last.

It seems as though these stars in the sky above us are the gazing of countless eyes we met in all forgotten ages. It seems as if, through the flowers, there came the whisper of those we have forgotten, saying Remember us.

Our hearts will break if we do not sing.

(They sing.)

Did you leave behind you your love, my heart, and miss peace through all your days?
 And is the path you followed lost and forgotten, making your return hopeless?
 I go roaming listening to brooks' babble, to the rustle of leaves.
 And it seems to me that I shall find the way, that reaches the land of lost love beyond the evening stars.

What a strange tune is this, that comes out of the music of Spring.

It seems like the tune of yellow leaves.

Spring has stored up its tears in secret for us all this while.

It was afraid we should not understand it, because we were so youthful.

It wanted to beguile us with smiles.

But we shall sleep our hearts tonight in the sadness of the other shore.

Ah, the dear earth! The beautiful earth! She wants all that we have—the touch of our hands, the song of our hearts.

She wants to draw out from us all that is within, hidden even from ourselves.

This is her sorrow, that she finds out some things only to know that she has not found all. She loses before she attains.

Ah, the dear earth! We shall never deceive you.

(They sing.)

I shall crown you with my garland, before I take leave.
 You ever spoke to me in all my joys and sorrows.
 And now, at the end of the day, my own heart will break in speech.
 Words came to me, but not the tune, and the song that I never sang to you remains hidden behind my tears.

Brother, did you notice that some one seemed to have passed by?

The only thing you feel is this passing by.

I felt the touch of the mantle of some wayfarer.

We came out to capture somebody, but now we feel the longing to be captured ourselves.

Ah, here comes the Minstrel. Where have you brought us? The breath of the wayfaring world touches us here,—the breath of the starry sky.

We came seeking a new form of play. But now we have forgotten what play it was.

We wanted to catch the Old Man.

And everybody said that he was terrifying, a bodiless head, a gaping mouth, a dragon eager to swallow the moon of the youth of the world. But now we are no longer afraid. The flowers go, the leaves go, the waves in the river go, and we shall also follow them. Ah, blind Minstrel, strike your lute and sing to us. Who knows what is the hour of the night?

(The Minstrel sings.)

Let me give my all to him, before I am asked, whom the world offers its all.
 When I came to him for my gifts, I was not afraid;
 And I will not fear, when I come to him, to give up what I have.
 The morning accepts his gold with songs, the evening pays him back the debt of gold and is glad.
 The joy of the blooming flower comes to fruit with shedding of its leaves.
 Hasten, my heart, and spend yourself in love, before the day is done.

Minstrel, why is Chandra still absent?

Minstrel

Don't you know that he has gone?

Gone?—Where?

Minstrel

He said, I shall go and conquer him.

Whom?

Minstrel

The One who is feared by all. He said, "Why else am I young?"

Ah, that was fine.—Dada goes to read his quatrains to the village people, and Chandra has disappeared,—for what purpose nobody knows.

Minstrel

He said, "Men have always been fighting for a cause. It is the shock of that, which ruffles the breeze of this Spring."

The shock?

Minstrel

Yes, the message that man's fight is not yet over.

Is this the message of Spring?

Minstrel

Yes. Those, who have been made immortal by death, have sent their message in these fresh leaves of Spring. It said, "We never doubted the way. We never counted the cost: we rushed out: we blossomed. If we had sat down to debate, then where would be the Spring?"

Has that made Chandra mad?

Minstrel

He said——

(The Minstrel sings.)

The Spring flowers have woven my wreath of victory,
 The South wind breathes its breath of fire in my blood.
 The voice of the house-corner wails in vain from behind.
 Death stands before me, offering its crown.
 The tempest of youth sweeps the skyharp with its fingers;
 My heart dances in its wild rhythm.
 Gathering and storing are not for me,
 I spend and scatter.
 And prudence and comfort bid me adieu in despair.

But where has he gone to?

Minstrel

He said, "I cannot keep waiting by the wayside any longer. I must go and meet him, and conquer him."

But which way did he take?

Minstrel

He has entered the cave.

How is that? It is so fearfully dark. Did he, without making any enquiries——

Minstrel

Yes, he went in to make enquiries himself.

When will he come back?

I don't believe he will ever come back.

But if Chandra leaves us, then life is not worth living.

What shall we say to our Leader?

The Leader also will leave us.

Didn't he leave any message for us before he disappeared?

Minstrel

He said, "Wait for me. I shall return."

Return? How are we to know it?

Minstrel

He said, "I will conquer, and then come back again."

Then we shall wait for him all night.

But, Minstrel, where have we got to wait for him?

Minstrel

Before that cave, from whence the stream of water comes flowing out.

Which way did he go to get there?

The darkness there is like a dark sword.

Minstrel

He followed the sound of the night-bird's wings.

Why did you not go with him?

Minstrel

He left me behind to give you hope.

When did he go?

Minstrel

In the first hour of the watch.

Now the third hour has passed, I think. The air is chilly.

I dreamt that three women, with their hair hanging loose——

Oh, leave off your dream-women. I am sick of your dreams.

Everything appears darkly ominous. I didn't notice before the hooting of the owl. But now——

Do you hear that dog whining on the far bank of the river?

It seems as though a witch were riding upon him and lashing him.

Surely, if it had been possible, Chandra would have come back by now.

How I wish this night were over.

Do you hear the woman's cry?

Oh, the women, the women. They are ever crying and weeping. But they cannot turn those back, who must go forward.

It is getting unbearable to sit still like this. Men imagine all sorts of things when they sit still. Let us go also. As soon as we are started on our way fear will leave us.

But who will show us the way?

There is the blind Minstrel.

What do you say, Minstrel? Can you show us the way?

Minstrel

Yes.

But we can hardly believe you. How can you find out the path by simply singing?

If Chandra never comes back, you shall.

We never knew that we loved Chandra so intensely. We made light of him all these days.

When we are in the playing mood, we become so intent on the play, that we neglect the playmate.

But, if he once comes back, we shall never neglect him any more.

I am afraid that we have often given him pain.

Yet his love rose above all that. We never knew how beautiful he was, when we could see him every day.

(They sing.)

When there was light in my world
 You stood outside my eyes.
 Now that there is none,
 You come into my heart.
 When there were dolls for me, I played;
 You smiled and watched from the door.
 Now that the dolls have crumbled to dust,
 You come and sit by me.
 And I have only my heart for my music,
 When my lute-strings have broken.

That Minstrel sits so still and silent. I don't like it.

He looks ominous,—like the lowering autumn cloud.

Let us dismiss him.

No, no. It gives us heart, when he sits there.

Don't you see that there is no sign of fear in his face?

It seems as if some messages were striking his forehead. His body appears to espy some one in the distance. There seem to be eyes on the tips of his fingers.

Simply by watching him, we can see that some one is coming through the dark.

Look. He is standing up. He is turning towards the East, and making his obeisance.

Yet there is nothing to be seen, not even a streak of light.

Why not ask him what it is that he sees?

No, don't disturb him.

Do you know, it seems to me that the morning has dawned in him.

As if the ferry-boat of light had reached the shore of his forehead.

His mind is still, like the morning sky.

The storm of birds' songs will burst out presently.

He is striking his lute. His heart is singing.

Hush. He is singing.

(The Minstrel sings.)

Victory to thee, victory for ever,
 O brave heart.
 Victory to life, to joy, to love,
 To eternal light.
 The night shall wane, the darkness shall vanish,
 Have faith, brave heart.
 Wake up from sleep, from languor of despair,
 Receive the light of new dawn with a song.

(A ray of light hovers before the cavern.)

Ah! There he is. Chandra! Chandra!

Hush. Don't make any noise. I cannot see him distinctly.

Ah! It cannot be any other than Chandra.

Oh, what joy!

Chandra! Come!

Chandra! How could you leave us for so long?

Have you been able to capture the Old Man?

Chandra

Yes, I have.

But we don't see him.

Chandra

He is coming.

But what did you see in the cave? Tell us.

Chandra

No, I cannot tell you.

Why?

Chandra

If my mind were a voice, then I could tell you.

But could you see him, whom you captured? Was he the Old Man of the World?

The Old Man who would like to drink up the sea of youth in his insatiable thirst.

Was it the One who is like the dark night, whose eyes are fixed on his breast, whose feet are turned the wrong way round, who walks backwards?

Was it the One who wears the garland of skulls, and lives in the burning-ground of the dead?

Chandra

I do not know, I cannot say. But he is coming. You shall see him.

Minstrel

Yes, I see him.

[The light strengthens and gradually throughout the scene grows to a culminating brilliance at the close.]

Where?

Minstrel

Here.

He is coming out of the cave.—Some one is coming out of the cave.

How wonderful.

Chandra

Why, it is you!

Our Leader!

Our Leader!

Our Leader!

Where is the Old Man?

Leader

He is nowhere.

Nowhere?

Leader

Yes, nowhere.

Then what is he?

Leader

He is a dream.

Then you are the real?

Leader

Yes.

And we are the real?

Leader

Yes.

Those who saw you from behind imagined you in all kinds of shapes.

We didn't recognize you through the dust.

You seemed old.

And then you came out of the cave,—and now you look like a boy.

It seems just as if we had seen you for the first time.

Chandra

You are first every time. You are first over and over again.

Leader

Chandra! You must own your defeat. You couldn't catch the Old Man.

Chandra

Let our festival begin. The sun is up.

Minstrel, if you keep so still, you will swoon away. Sing something.

(The Minstrel sings.)

I lose thee, to find thee back again and again,
 My beloved.
 Thou leavest me, that I may receive thee all the more, when thou returnest.
 Thou canst vanish behind the moment's screen
 Only because thou art mine for evermore,
 My beloved.
 When I go in search of thee, my heart trembles, spreading ripples across my love.
 Thou smilest through thy disguise of utter absence, and my tears sweeten thy smile.

Do you hear the hum?

Yes.

They are not bees, but the people of the place.

Then Dada must be near at hand with his quatrains.

Dada

Is this the Leader?

Yes, Dada.

Dada

Oh, I am so glad you have come. I must read my collection of quatrains.

No. No. Not the whole collection, but only one.

Dada

Very well. One will do.

The sun is at the gate of the East, his drum of victory sounding in the sky.
 The Night says I am blessed, my death is bliss.
 He receives his alms of gold, filling his wallet,—and departs.

That is to say——

No. We don't want your that is to say.

Dada

It means——

Whatever it means, we are determined not to know it.

Dada

What makes you so desperate?

It is our festival day.

Dada

Ah! Is that so? Then let me go to all the neighbours——

No, you mustn't go there.

Dada

But is there any need for me here?

Yes.

Then my quatrains——

Chandra

We shall colour your quatrains with such a thick brush, that no one will know whether they have any meaning at all.

And then you will be without any means.

The neighbourhood will desert you.

The Watchman will take you to be a fool.

And the Pundit will take you to be a blockhead.

And your own people will consider you to be useless.

And the outside people will consider you queer.

Chandra

But we shall crown you, Dada, with a crown of new leaves.

We shall put a garland of jasmine round your neck.

And there will be no one else except ourselves who will know your true worth.

The Song of the Festival of Spring

[In which all the persons of the drama, not excepting Sruti-bhushan, unite on the main stage in the dance of Spring.]

Come and rejoice, for April is awake.
 Fling yourselves into the flood of being, bursting the bondage of the past.
 April is awake.
 Life's shoreless sea is heaving in the sun before you.
 All the losses are lost, and death is drowned in its waves.
 Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart.