I remember the night when she was born

In sevenfold greatness; like a deft star

Fore-working destiny written in terms

Of toil, she had come in the late dimness

To do unique things. With joy in her soul

And pain in the deep hole of her veiled charm,

Promptly she moved in expectation’s zest

To forge thorough substance in the new fire

Never whose goldenness can become dull.

Seems, it made more sense than finding answer

To honoured query of the questing heart

As to where would the saint go after death.

But then Rita had arrived in the world

Of commonplace pursuits, in the push-pull

Designed by mortal fate; but she was quick

To decry vainness that drives ambition,

Lugging nothing’s struggle day after day,

The defeat in life, the sadness in love,

Humiliation’s suffering. She knew

Also that falsehood is untrue, and that

What counts is just the spirit’s robustness

In every mood, each season, in trees

And hills and animals, and elements

Of the unfolding thought, each breathing soul.

Her birth was in the seventh house, and sweet

She grew, and beautiful in maidenhood,

A waxing moon of the rich autumn sky.

Through her bright youthful graciousness at once

Ran musical notes, athrilled, a melody

Vibrant; they needed no swift composer,

And a fabled dawn broke out; the priest bird

Raised a chant in serene affirmation

Of the earth-born gods. One by one as they

Awoke, deathlessness rushed in. Soon Rita

The splendid daughter inaugurated

The dynamics of truth for the things to come.

RY Deshpande

15 July 2004

Courtesy Google Images: We’ve been freely utilising Google images for the illustration of various posts on the Mirror of Tomorrow and we’re sincerely thankful to the authors concerned. As these are not meant for any commercial gain and are there only for the artistic-aesthetic-creative purposes, it is felt that there will be no objection in their use by us; otherwise, if pointed out, these will be withdrawn. It is amazing that these images turn out to be, though at times with a good deal of editing or adaptation, very apt for the depiction of the themes. That indeed is the remarkable power of the Internet itself that has given a new dimension to the richness of our life. ~ RYD