{"id":2278,"date":"2013-07-13T01:40:33","date_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:40:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/?p=2278"},"modified":"2013-07-13T01:40:33","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T01:40:33","slug":"12-vidula-vol-05-translations","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/01-works-of-sri-aurobindo\/03-cwsa\/05-translations\/12-vidula-vol-05-translations","title":{"rendered":"-12_Vidula.html"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\n\n
\n <\/td>\n\n

\n

Vidula<\/font><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Vidula<\/b> <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

This poem is based on a passage comprising four chapters
\n(Adhyayas) in the Udyog-parva of the Mahabharat. It is not a close translation
\nbut a free poetic paraphrase of the subject matter; it follows closely the
\nsequence of the thoughts with occasional rearrangements, translates freely in
\nparts, in others makes some departures or adds, develops and amplifies to bring
\nout fully the underlying spirit and idea. The style of the original is terse,
\nbrief, packed and allusive, sometimes knotted into a pregnant obscurity by the
\ndrastic economy of word and phrase. It would have been impossible to preserve
\neffectively in English such a style; a looser fullness of expression has been
\npreferred sacrificing the letter to the spirit. The text of a Calcutta edition
\nhas been followed throughout. The whole passage with its envoi or self-laudatory
\nclose reads like an independent poem dovetailed into the vast epic. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\nI<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Hearken to the ancient converse of which old traditions tell, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Of the youthful Sunjoy with his mother the indomitable <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Vidula, the passionate princess, royal in her mood and form, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Fiery-souled, the resolute speaker with her tameless heart of storm, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

High her fame in kingly senates where the nations’ princes met, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Eloquent and proud and learned, with a soul foreseeing fate. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Conquered by the King of Sindhu, hurled down from his lofty throne, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

As he lay unnerved and abject, came she to her warlike son, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Vidula, the passionate princess, and she spoke with burning eyes, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Scourging him with words like flakes of fire, bidding him arise. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

“Son”, she cried, “no son of mine to make thy mother’s heart rejoice! <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Hark, thy foemen mock and triumph, yet to live is still thy choice. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Nor thy hero father got thee, nor I bore thee in my womb,
\n  <\/p>\n

 
\n  <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 105<\/font> <\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

\n

Random changeling from some world of petty souls and coward
\ngloom! <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

\tPassionless and abject nature, stripped and void of bold desire, <\/p>\n

\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

\tNerveless of all masculine endeavour, without force and fire, <\/p>\n

\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

\tReckon not thy name midst men who liest flinging manhood far. <\/p>\n

\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

\tRise and bear thy yoke, thou warhorse, neighing for the crash of war! <\/p>\n

\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Make not great thy foemen with thy terrors, panic eyes behind. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Thou, a king’s son, canst thou tremble? Be a king indeed in mind, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Soar up like a sudden eagle beating high against the wind. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Out, arise, thou coward! lie not thus upon the ground o’erthrown, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Shorn of pride, thy foes’ delight, thy friends’ shame, making fruitless
\nmoan. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Easily a paltry river with the meagre floods o’erflows, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Easily the field-mouse with her mite of grain contented goes,
\n\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Easily the coward ceases fainting from his great emprise. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Break the serpent’s fangs between thy hands and perish, not as dies <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Impotent a whining dog, go deathward; but as circles o’er his prey, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

But as wheels an angry falcon through the wide and azure day <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Watching for his moment, thou in fearless silence wait thy time <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Or with resonant and far-voiced challenge waken war sublime. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Wherefore like a dead thing thunder-blasted liest thou on the ground? <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Rise, thou coward, seek not slumber while the victors jeer around. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Turn not miserably to thy set, but smiting with the sword <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Make the world re-echo! deem that thou wast born to be its lord, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Not with middle place content nor abject; all subjection spurn. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Stand erect, whate’er befall thee, roaring on thy hunters turn. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Blaze out like a firebrand even if for a moment burning high, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Not like the poor fire of husks that smoulders long, afraid to die. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Better is the swift and glorious flame that mounting dies of power, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Not to smoke in squalid blackness, hour on wretched futile hour. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Out to battle, do thy man’s work, falter not in high attempt; <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

So a man is quit before his God and saved from self-contempt. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

For the great heart grieves not though he lose the glorious crown of
\nstrife, <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

But he does the work before him holding cheap his body’s life. <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Show thy prowess, be the hero thou wast born, with flashing glaive <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

Hew thy way with God before thee to the heaven of the brave.
\n  <\/p>\n

 
\n  <\/p>\n

<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 106<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

\nAll the wells that thou hast dug, the beasts that thou hast offered, all
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFame is gone to wrack; thy roots of pleasure cut, the tree must fall. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEunuch, wherefore dost thou live? if thou must sink, with thy last
\nbreath <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSeize thy foeman by the thigh and drag him with thee down to death.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThough his roots be cut, the strong man stands up stiff, he sinks not <\/p>\n

prone.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMark the warhorse in the battle with the sunken car o’erthrown, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nUp he struggles, full of pride and rage. Thou too like him exalt
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThy low fortunes, lift thy great house shamed and ruined through thy <\/p>\n

fault.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe whose perfect deeds as of a demigod in strength and mind <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMake not up the daily talk and glory of amazed mankind,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhat is he but one more clod to feed the fire and help the soil? <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe is neither man nor woman. Man is he whose fire and toil,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTurned to wealth or turned to wisdom, truth or piety of soul, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTravel through the spacious world renowned from pole to ringing
\npole, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOr in austere works or knowledge or in valour quick and high
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe outdoes his fellow-creatures scaling the immortals’ sky. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBe not as the vagrant beggar seeking food from door to door,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShameless with his skull and rosary wretched handfuls to implore. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCowardly, ignoble and unfeeling is the life they lead,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEqual to the houseless street-dog whom compassionate hands must <\/p>\n

feed.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLet not ever son of mine be such an one as all men scorn, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWithout throne and without purple, weak, emaciate and forlorn,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMean and with mean things content and vaunting o’er a little gain. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSuch an one his foes delight in, but his friends are joyless men.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWe shall perish, exiles from our country, plagued with wretched want, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAll obscure who were so glorious, doomed to petty things and scant,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWandering in loveless places, dreaming at an alien door <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOf delightful things and pleasant in our joyous lives of yore.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDeath and shame in thee I bore and fondly deemed I had a son. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBetter were a woman barren than to bear with labour one
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSluggish, weak and hopeless, without noble wrath and warlike fire. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSunjoy, Sunjoy, waste not thou thy flame in smoke! Impetuous, dire,
\n  <\/p>\n

 
\n  <\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 107<\/font> <\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

\n

Leap upon thy foes for havoc as a famished lion leaps,
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Storming through thy vanquished victors till thou fall on slaughtered <\/p>\n

heaps.
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

This is manhood to refuse defeat and insult not to bear. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

He who suffers and forgives, who bows his neck the yoke to wear,
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Is too weak for man, too base to be a woman. Loiterings
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Clog a mounting fortune, low contentment fetters, fear unwings,
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

And a fainting over-pitiful heart she scorns for her abode. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

In thy strength reject these poisons, tread not vile subjection’s road.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Make thy man’s heart hard like iron to pursue and take thy own. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Out to battle! let not woman’s weakness shame thy manhood, son.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Fortune dogs the hero’s goings who like Ocean in his pride <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Walks through life with puissant footsteps as a lion the hill-side.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Even when he has gone where fate shall lead him, still his people climb <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

On the wave of his great actions to a joy and strength sublime.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

For a King must exile pleasure, turn from safety to waylay <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Fortune for his nation like a hunter tracking down his prey.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Wise and fortunate ministers shall help him, thousands share his joy.” <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

But to Vidula, amazed and angry answered swift the boy.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

“Where shall be thy bliss, my mother, though the whole wide earth <\/p>\n

were thine,
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

If thine eyes of me are vacant? the delight of raiment fine, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Food and gems and rich enjoyments, what were these without thy
\nson?” <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

But the mother in her surge of passion answered rushing on.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

“Be that Hell my foeman’s where the loiterer and the coward climb, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Who avoid occasion, murmuring, Why today? ’tis not the time.’
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

May my friends go flocking to that world where the high-crested go, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Who respect the self within them and its noble value know.
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

But who, stripped of mastery, eat the bitter bread that others give, <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Miserable souls and strengthless, is it life that such men live?
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Live not with such abject living, be a prince and chief of men. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Let the Brahmins look toward thee even as to the King of Rain
\n\t<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

All this world of creatures turns for sustenance with expectant eyes. <\/p>\n

<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Mighty Gods to mightier Indra from their golden thrones arise.
\n\t<\/span> <\/p>\n

\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Page \u2013 108<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

\nLo, his hands to whom all creatures for their bliss come crowding fast,<\/span><\/p>\n

As to a ripe-fruited tree the birds innumerably haste,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd his life indeed is counted, for he reaps the earth with deeds<\/span><\/p>\n

And on friend and fere and kinsman showers unasked their princely<\/span><\/p>\n

\nneeds, \u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

Living by his arm’s strength, taking only what his hand has won,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nGathering here an earthly glory, shining there like Indra’s sun.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n
\nII<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n“Evil is thy state, O Sunjoy; lose the manhood from thy soul<\/span><\/p>\n

And thou treadst the path of vilest spirits with their Hell for goal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShall a warrior born of warriors to whom Heaven gave fire divine,<\/span><\/p>\n

Spend it not in mighty actions lavish of the God within?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShall he hug his life for ever? He is then a thief to Heaven;<\/span><\/p>\n

For to swell the days of earth with glorious deeds that strength was<\/span><\/p>\n

\ngiven.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hear me, Sunjoy! Sindhu’s monarch rules in might the conquered folk,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut their hearts bend not before him, they abhor the foreign yoke.<\/span><\/p>\n

They from weakness sit with minds bewildered, full of hate and grief,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWaiting sullenly a sea of miseries, hopeless of relief.<\/span><\/p>\n

Gather faithful friends and get thee valiant helpers; through our lands<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWorking with a fierce persistence, strengthening still thy mighty hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

Others when they see thy daring shall be stirred to noble strife,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCatch thy fire and rise in strong rebellion, scorning goods and life.<\/span><\/p>\n

Make with these a close and mighty following, seek the pathless hills,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nRegions difficult and strong and sullen passes walled with ills<\/span><\/p>\n

For the rash invader; there in arms expect the tyrant’s hour;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe is not a god to be immortal, not for ever lasts his power.<\/span><\/p>\n

Knowst thou not the ancient Brahmin with his deep and inward eye<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThat beholds the ages, told of thee that lowly thou shouldst lie,<\/span><\/p>\n

Yet again arise and prosper? Victor1<\/font><\/sup> named, a victor be.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTherefore have I chidden and urged thee, to awake thy destiny.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n
\n1 “Sunjoy”, Sanskrit sanjaya<\/i>, means “victory”.<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 109<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

O my son, believe me, he whose victory brings the common gain<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd a nation conquers with him, cannot fail; his goal is plain<\/span><\/p>\n

And his feet divinely guided, for his steps to Fate belong.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nO my son, think this whilst thou art fighting: Generations long<\/span><\/p>\n

Of my fathers walk beside me and a nation’s mighty dead<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWatch me; for my greatness is their own, my slavery bows their head.’<\/span><\/p>\n

In this knowledge turn thy thoughts to battle; Sunjoy, draw not back!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEviller plight is not nor sin-fuller, this day’s bread to lack<\/span><\/p>\n

Nor to know from whence shall come the bitter morrow’s scanty meal.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIt is worse than death of spouse or child such indigence to feel.<\/span><\/p>\n

That’s a grief that strikes and passes, this a long and living death.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIn a house of mighty monarchs I derived my earliest breath;<\/span><\/p>\n

As from ocean into ocean sails a ship in bannered pride,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTo a house of mighty monarchs came I in my marriage-tide,<\/span><\/p>\n

Queen and Empress, filled with joys and blessings, worshipped by my<\/span><\/p>\n

\nlord,<\/span><\/p>\n

And my kin rejoiced to see me rich in wealth and jewelled hoard,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nClothed in smooth and splendid raiment, girt with friends and nobly<\/span><\/p>\n

stored.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen thou seest me weak and abject and the weeping of thy wife,<\/span><\/p>\n

Wilt thou in thy breath take pleasure, wilt thou love thy shameful life?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWouldst thou see thy household priests and holy teachers leave our<\/span><\/p>\n

side,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOur retainers hopeless of their sustenance who had served thy pride?<\/span><\/p>\n

In thy proud aspiring actions, son, I lived; if these are past,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPeace can dwell not in my bosom and my heart shall break at last.<\/span><\/p>\n

Must I then turn back the Brahmin when he sues for gold or lands?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShame would tear my heart-strings; never, Sunjoy, went with empty<\/span><\/p>\n

hands<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFrom thy father’s seat or from thy mother’s presence suppliant men.<\/span><\/p>\n

We were ever all men’s refuge; shall we sue to others then?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLife shall leave me rather, I will seek that house of nether calms.<\/span><\/p>\n

Never will I tread a stranger’s floor and live upon his insolent alms.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLo! we toss in shoreless waters, be the haven to our sail!<\/span><\/p>\n

Lo! we drown in monstrous billows, be our boat with kindly hail!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSave our hopeless fortunes! We are dead men drawing empty breath,<\/span><\/p>\n

Be a hero and deliverer, raise us from this living death.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 110<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Dare to die, O hero! Where is then the foeman half so strong<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAs to overcome thy onset? Who would choose to suffer long<\/span><\/p>\n

Years of sad despondent weakness? sudden death is better far.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSingle out their mightiest, let thy fame o’ertop the surge of war.<\/span><\/p>\n

Indra by the death of Vritra seized the monarchy of Heaven;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLord of teeming worlds, to him the largest sovereign part is given.<\/span><\/p>\n

Calling to his armoured foes defiance, lo, the hero proud<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShouts his name across the roar of battle like a lion loud<\/span><\/p>\n

And he breaks their foremost, and they fall apart like scattered spray,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTill he slays their leader and mightiest winning glory wide as day.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then his haters’ hearts are troubled, then they bow reluctant heads.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFor he hurls his life into the battle and on death he treads<\/span><\/p>\n

Towards victory; all the cowards and the tremblers of the earth<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCome with gifts and incense crowding to provide his ease and mirth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Is it death thou fleest from? Sunjoy, savage is the fall of Kings,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFor a wise foe leaves no remnants, hands to stab or fugitive wings.<\/span><\/p>\n

To be King is heaven, O Sunjoy, sweet as nectar to the lip<\/span><\/p>\n

\nPower is to the mighty. Son of Kings, thou holdest in thy grip<\/span><\/p>\n

Heaven or empire; rush then like a meteor on the vaunting foe! <\/span><\/p>\n

\nReaper in the battle! kinglike lay their armed thousands low.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sunjoy, terror of thy foemen, let me see not in thy close<\/span><\/p>\n

\nA poor crouching coward girt with weeping friends and shouting foes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Vail not thou thy crest to be a mock for Sindhu’s laughing girls:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTake her highborn damsels for thy handmaids, with her conquered<\/span><\/p>\n

pearls<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWreathe thy queen, be strong and splendid as of yore in youthful<\/span><\/p>\n

pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYoung and shaped to princely beauty, cultured, to great Kings allied,<\/span><\/p>\n

Such a man as thou to deviate from thy bold and radiant mood!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThou to bow thy neck to other yoke than Earth’s, for alien food<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nSpeaking sweet to strangers, following with a meek inclined head!<\/span><\/p>\n

If I see thee thus degraded, I shall think my son is dead.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut I know this country’s mighty princes and their lordly race<\/span><\/p>\n

Firmer-rooted than the mountains in eternal kingliness.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIn our fathers and forefathers ’twas the same and in our sons<\/span><\/p>\n

Shall be and their progeny for ever while the Ganges runs.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIt was made by God a grandeur! Never prince of the ancient seed,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 111<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Never prince who did the deeds of princehood in this land was bred,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWho would crouch and gaze for sustenance, who in fear would bow<\/span><\/p>\n

his neck.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLike a giant tree he has no joints to bend with, though he break;<\/span><\/p>\n

Break he may, but bends not. If he bows, to holy men in awe<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBows he; if he yields, it is to justice and religion’s law,<\/span><\/p>\n

Not to equal or inferiors: them he holds with sternest hand,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSmiting still the strong ill-doer and the troublers of the land.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mightily like a maddened elephant through the world he storms<\/span><\/p>\n

\nabroad<\/span><\/p>\n

Conquering fate through high adventure, kneeling not to bear the<\/span><\/p>\n

\nload \u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

Little recks if he has helpers or stands lonely, dispossessed;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHe is what he is and will not alter, lowers not his crest.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n
\nIII<\/font><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n“Mother, mother stony-natured, ore of pitiless iron black<\/span><\/p>\n

Heaven collected and together forged thy dreadful heart to make.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMother mine heroic-minded, high-disdaining common mould,<\/span><\/p>\n

Dreadful is the warrior code of ethics that our princes hold,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHarsh, devoid of love and sweetness; thou my mother driv’st me on<\/span><\/p>\n

To the battle like a stranger, like another woman’s son!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAm I not thy child? has any other in thy love a part?<\/span><\/p>\n

Yet thy words are harsh and ruthless. Will it please thy fiery heart<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIf I lie in battle cold and in my stead thou own the earth?<\/span><\/p>\n

What were all life’s splendour, what were bright and fair things worth?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen thine eyes seek me in vain, will these things soothe their sad<\/span><\/p>\n

desire?”<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nBut the mother answered still with words that breathed her soul of fire.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Dear my son, for joy or sorrow twofold is the great life’s scope,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTo be righteous in our actions, to fulfil each human hope.<\/span><\/p>\n

Private welfare, high religion, both alike should urge thee on.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nIt has come at last, the mightiest hour of all thy life, O son.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 112<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Now if thou shouldst spurn occasion from vile fear or pitifulness,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAll thy beauty were dishonoured and thy strength grows thy disgrace.<\/span><\/p>\n

When dishonour stains thee, should I shape my words to soothe thy<\/span><\/p>\n

\nmind?<\/span><\/p>\n

Like a she-mule’s were my mother’s love, a brutish impulse blind.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLeave the path of fools and cowards, vileness hated by the wise.<\/span><\/p>\n

Strange the sorcery of affection sealing up this people’s eyes!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut not mine! While only thou art noble, art thou dear and loved.<\/span><\/p>\n

But a graceless son or grandchild by aspiring thoughts unmoved,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCrude and brutish-brained with unformed soul, revolts a father’s mind,<\/span><\/p>\n

Knowing he had all in vain his labour to create his kind.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nShrink not from a noble action, stoop not to unworthy deed!<\/span><\/p>\n

Vile are they who stoop, they gain not Heaven’s doors, nor here<\/span><\/p>\n

\nsucceed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kshatriyas on this world were loosed for battle by their Maker high,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSunjoy, for the strife and victory, and they conquer or they die.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ever by their doom of Nature to a labour unrevoked<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd a fierce hard-hearted action for the people’s safety yoked,<\/span><\/p>\n

Conquering or dying, glorious Indra’s radiant world they share:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYet his heavenly mansions to a warrior’s heart are not so dear<\/span><\/p>\n

As to dare and triumph, as the gust and glory of the strife,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAs to set his foes beneath his feet and drink the joy of life.<\/span><\/p>\n

When the thinking soul of manhood is insulted and oppressed,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDeep he burns with fire for ever and revenge is in his breast,<\/span><\/p>\n

Till he’s strong to hurl disfigured self away and nobly cease<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOr to crush the proud wrongdoer; other way is none to peace.<\/span><\/p>\n

Wilt thou faint for difficulty and sorrow? they but strengthen men.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nEven a little pleasure comes not here without a little pain,<\/span><\/p>\n

Without struggle no delight is and without delight the soul<\/span><\/p>\n

\nCannot live, but ceases like the Ganges in the ocean’s roll.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

Then King Sunjoy answered, faintly now, but making once more<\/span><\/p>\n

\nmoan.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Not such counsel thou shouldst give me. Mother, still I am thy son.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBe as dumb men are, my mother, be as dull and joyless things;<\/span><\/p>\n

Look to pity and softness only, not the iron moods of Kings.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 113<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

“Greatest were my joy then if thy thoughts like mine grew eagle-eyed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThou bidst me to woman’s softness? I bid thee to masculine pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

When the men of Sindhu are not, blotted by thy hands from life,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen thou winnest difficult victory from the clutch of fearful strife,<\/span><\/p>\n

I shall know thou art my offspring and shall love my son indeed.”<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\nBut King Sunjoy, “Where have I a single helper in my need?<\/span><\/p>\n

All alone what man can struggle? Without means who groweth great?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nI have neither friends nor treasure; when I view my dreadful state,<\/span><\/p>\n

Fallen, helpless, wretched, all my sick heart turns from useless toil<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAs a sinner lost despairs of heaven for a thing so vile.<\/span><\/p>\n

But, O mother, if thy wisdom find an issue from this net,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nTell me, mother; I may do thy lofty bidding even yet.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

“Never scorn thyself for past defeat; be bold and proud of heart.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFortune goes and comes again; she seeks us only to depart.<\/span><\/p>\n

Foolish are those careful thinkers who would ponder all their days,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThinking this and that, and leap not to their crown, ask perfect ways.<\/span><\/p>\n

Where is in the world an action whose result is wholly sure?<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHere uncertainty’s the one thing certain. To a noble lure<\/span><\/p>\n

Man puts forth his manhood, wins and is or dies in the attempt.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThey who act not, try not, they are nothing and their crown contempt.<\/span><\/p>\n

Single is inaction’s nature to forego Fate’s mighty call:<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDouble-edged high aspiration wins life’s throne or loses all.<\/span><\/p>\n

Knowing that his life is transient, sure of its uncertainties,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSwift the hero clashing with adversity jostles for increase.<\/span><\/p>\n

All you who are men, awake and rise and struggle; free and great<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNow resolve to be and shrink not from the dangerous face of Fate.<\/span><\/p>\n

Be you resolute for victory; this shall drag her to your side,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFor the iron will takes Fortune captive like a vanquished bride.<\/span><\/p>\n

Call the gods to bless thy purpose; set the Brahmin’s subtle brain<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd the nation’s princes in thy vanguard; fight! thou shalt attain.<\/span><\/p>\n

There are angered bold ambitious natures, many a breast<\/span><\/p>\n

\nArrogant and active, there are men insulted and disgraced<\/span><\/p>\n

By the foreign tyrant, there are soaring spirits that aspire,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMinds of calm courageous wisdom, quiet strengths and souls of fire,<\/span><\/p>\n

Desperate men with broken fortunes; link thyself to these and dare.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 114<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Care not for his giant armies, care not for his tools of war.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWith these native flames to help thee, those shall break like piles of<\/span><\/p>\n

cloud<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen a mighty storm awakes in heaven and the winds grow loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

Give them precedence, rise to yield them courtesy, speak them ever fair;<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThey shall make thee then their leader and for thee shall do and dare.<\/span><\/p>\n

When the tyrant sees his conquered foeman careless grown of death,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBent on desperate battle, he will tremble, he will hold his breath<\/span><\/p>\n

Like a man who sees a Python lashing forward for the grip.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDoubtless he will strive to soothe or tame thee, but if thou escape<\/span><\/p>\n

His deceit and violence, he will parley, give and take for peace.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo at least there’s gained a respite and good terms for thy increase.<\/span><\/p>\n

Respite and a footing gained, then gather wealth to swell thy force.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nFriends and helpers crowd around him who has money and resource,<\/span><\/p>\n

But the poor man they abandon and they shun his feeble state,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLosing confidence, saying, Where are then his means and favouring<\/span><\/p>\n

fate?’<\/span><\/p>\n

\nWhen thy foe shall grow thy helper, cessions new and treaties make,<\/span><\/p>\n

Then thou’lt understand how easy ’twas to win thy kingdom back.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n
\nIV<\/font><\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

“Never should a prince and leader bow his haughty head to fear,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLet his fortune be however desperate, death however near.<\/span><\/p>\n

If his soul grow faint, let him imprison weakness in his heart,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nKeep a bold and open countenance and play on a hero’s part.<\/span><\/p>\n

If the leader fear and faint, then all behind him faint and fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo a king of men should keep a dauntless look and forehead clear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now this nation and this army and the statesmen of the land,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAll are torn by different counsels and they part to either hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some affect as yet the foreign tyrant, many leave his side,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOthers yet shall leave him, frowning, for his insults and his pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some there are, thy friends who love thee, but they serve and eat his<\/span><\/p>\n

\nbread,<\/span><\/p>\n

Weak, though praying for thy welfare, like poor cattle bound and led,<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 115<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Like a cow that sees her calf tied, so they serve reluctantly,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYet they sorrow in thy sorrow, weeping as for kin that die.<\/span><\/p>\n

Some there are whom thou hast loved and honoured, loyal friends of<\/span><\/p>\n

\nold,<\/span><\/p>\n

Who believe yet in the nation though its king grow faint and cold.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nYield not to thy fear, O Sunjoy; let not such thy side forsake<\/span><\/p>\n

Scorning thy poor terrors. Wake for victory, Sunjoy! Warrior, wake!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nI have laboured to provoke the will, the strength thy heart within.<\/span><\/p>\n

All is truth I’ve uttered and thou knowst it; thy despair was sin.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nKnow that thou hast still great treasure, know that I have funds<\/span><\/p>\n

concealed,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nMighty stores that I alone know; thou shalt have them for the field.<\/span><\/p>\n

Know that thou hast numerous secret helpers, friends who wait their<\/span><\/p>\n

\nhour,<\/span><\/p>\n

Daring to endure privation and disaster’s utmost power.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nThey shall turn not backward from the battle, they are helpers, friends<\/span><\/p>\n

Such as daring souls aspirant need for their gigantic ends.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\nSo she spoke with words of varied splendour urging him to dare<\/span><\/p>\n

Till his gloom and shadow left him and his foolish weak despair.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n“O thou strong and resolute speaker, even the feeblest fainting soul<\/span><\/p>\n

Would put darkness from him, listening, for thy words would make<\/span><\/p>\n

\nhim whole.<\/span><\/p>\n

I will high uphold my country in its swift precipitous fate,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nHaving thee to lead me on whose vision past and future wait.<\/span><\/p>\n

My denial and my silence were but craft; consent deferred<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDrew thee on to speak lest I should lose even one inspiring word.<\/span><\/p>\n

It is sudden nectar to the desolate to find a friend!<\/span><\/p>\n

\nNow I rise to smite the foe and cease not till I make an end.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Out he rushed to desperate battle burning in his pride and might,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAs a noble warhorse wounded rushes faster to the fight.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stung with arrows of her speech he did his mother’s high command<\/span><\/p>\n

\nDriving out the foe and stranger, freeing all the conquered land.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\nLo, this strong and famous poem that shall make men gods for might,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nKindling fiery joy of battle. When a King has lost the fight<\/span><\/p>\n

By his foemen whelmed and broken, let his well-wishers and friends<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 116<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

Read to him this poem. All who need high strength for noble ends,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nLet them read it daily; for the warrior hearing turns to flame,<\/span><\/p>\n

Tramples down a hundred foemen and acquires a deathless name.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nAnd the pregnant woman who shall hear it day by day<\/span><\/p>\n

Bears a hero or a strong man dowered with strength to help or slay,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nOr a soul of grandiose virtues, or a helper of the Light,<\/span><\/p>\n

Or a glorious giver blazing with the spirit’s radiance bright.<\/span><\/p>\n

\nBut a daughter of high princes and a fighter’s wife shall bear<\/span><\/p>\n

Splendid like a flame and swift and fortunate, strong to dare,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nUnapproachable in battle and invincible in war,<\/span><\/p>\n

\nArmed champion of the right, injustice’ scourge, some human star.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n <\/p>\n

\n

<\/p>\n

Page \u2013 117<\/font><\/span><\/p>\n<\/td>\n

\n <\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  Vidula   Vidula   This poem is based on a passage comprising four chapters (Adhyayas) in the Udyog-parva of the Mahabharat. It is not…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[48],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2278","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-05-translations","wpcat-48-id"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2278","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2278"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2278\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2278"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2278"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/worksofthemotherandsriaurobindo.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2278"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}