Posts Tagged ‘Rabindranath Tagore’

Of love, regret, and misery…

April 25, 2016

I am not my own self tonight; feeling like a pressure on my temples.  I close my eyes, I try to think of you, I fail miserably.  Each time I close my eyes, I feel the headache all new again.

Why are you so much far away?  I think of that poem from Gitanjali:  “O fool! Try to carry thyself on thy own shoulders!  O beggar, to come beg at thy own door!  Leave all thy burden on his hands who can bear all, and never look back in regret.”

Why me?  I was a fool, but I did seek to leave all my burdens in your hands.  Never did I regret.  “Sab daagh haiN is dil mein, ba_juz daagh e nadaamat..”  Then.  Why.  Me.

Alone and lonely, I sit here waiting for a single glance of benevolence from you.  To bring me out of this misery.

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Tagore speaks for me…

September 2, 2013

If I were Tagore, I would have prayed exactly such this morning:

This is my prayer to thee, my lord—strike, strike at the root of penury in my heart.

Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and sorrows .

Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in service.

Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees before insolent might.

Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily trifles.

And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with love .

This morning – when I’m coming to you –

A note from Glimpses of Bengal by Rabindranath Tagore

September 29, 2011

Shazadpur 10th July 1893

All I have to say about the discussion that is going on over “silent poets” is that, though the strength of feeling may be the same in those who are silent as in those who are vocal, that has nothing to do with poetry. Poetry is not a matter of feeling, it is the creation of form.

Ideas take shape by some hidden, subtle skill at work within the poet. This creative power is the origin of poetry. Perceptions, feelings, or language, are only raw material. One may be gifted with feeling, a second with language, a third with both; but he who has as well a creative genius, alone is a poet.

Gitanjali Poem XIV

June 11, 2011

An unknown flower

Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple great gifts that thou gavest to me unasked.

My desires are many and my cries are pitiful, but ever didst thou save me by hard refusals; and this strong mercy has been wrought into my life through and through.

Day by day thou are making me worthy of the simple, great gifts that thou gavest me unasked–this sky and the light, this body and the life and the mind–saving me from perils of overmuch desire.

There are time when I languidly linger and times when I awaken and hurry in search of my goal; but cruelly thou hidest thyself from before me.

Day by day thou are making me worthy of thy full acceptance by refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain desire.

~By Rabindranath Tagore (Gitanjali)

My love…

May 2, 2011

In his first letter to Victoria, Tagore writes with amazing candour, “it is difficult for you to realize what an enormous burden of loneliness I carry about me… My market value has risen high and my personal value has been obscured. This value I seek to realise with an aching desire… This can be had only from a woman’s love and I have been hoping for a long time that I deserve it.”
Tagore, November 24, 1924