What had happened was intriguing, a freak

Designed by chance. From his home of freedom

And deep calm Anandadharma stepped out

And travelled far. He felt in the bright day

A keenness to visit Sarvabhadra.

In spite of the blind hazardous crossing

Down artless inclines, he erred through light-years

And first met god’s shadows. Dimensions grew

Unsure, suns began to enter the chasm,

And there soon quickened unsightly spectres.

At each stage sprang up falsehood's wicked forks,—

As if quirk-laden was the dim credence

When was duped truthfulness. Sarvabhadra

Had chosen a frightful grotto, of nought,

For his dwelling, and lived there collected,

And knew only vacuity. On the night’s

Rocks he saw starry hieroglyphs, of wars

Occult, their spiteful pangs, and their triumphs.

Weapons of brutality were deployed,

And in the adversary’s arms all slipped,—

Reclaimed freight too. But the spirit’s sadism

Would not be, if joy was not there. All breathes

In it, in the ether’s brave ecstasy.

Daughters swam in wrongful streams, and black swans

Made more inauspicious the milieu,

And strange noises filled the air, and foul smells

Weighed humidly in the sky. Yet there burned

The fire of an unkindled wholesomeness

And in a sevenfold affirmation

Was performed the yajna. Food offerings

Agni took to the original gods,

And implored them to shape new promptnesses.

Sarvabhadra hailed Anandadharma

And spread out a rich feast; soon aeons moved

In blueness of the chimes, and sweet-scented

Voices urged the soul for the gains of time.

RY Deshpande

1 August 2004