Saskatchewan Teachers College - Lampada Yeabook (Regina, Saskatchewan Canada)

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The name of Rabindranath Tagore is a household word in India. He is known as a political leader, a nationalist, a novelist, a dramatist, a story writer, a mystic philosopher, a literary critic, an essayist, but above all as a poet. His interests embrace every sub¬ ject which is of interest to mankind, but he is essen¬ tially a mystic poet, the writer of “Gitanjali,” the Nobel prize winner. His poetical works including plays in verse make well o ver a hundred volumes. The songs he wrote number more than a thousand. He himself set a great many of them to music. One of his songs, Jana Gana Maha, is India’s national anthem. His dance-dramas are staged everywhere in India. There was a time when the poet himself used to appear on the stage, and in this medium, too, he showed unusual talent. Though above all a poet, Tagore wrote excellent fic¬ tion. Several of his short stories, built around human values, rank among the world’s classics in this genre. His novels, though not of equal significance, are re¬ markable for their vivid portrayal, depth of realism, and a profound understanding of Indian life. He took to painting when he was nearly seventy and again excelled. His paintings have been exhibited in Paris and elsewhere and were praised by the leading critics of the day. introducing JaCj,Ore a f- oet oj? india achieved the true kind of unity. That process, he believes, must continue today. The internationalism in Tagore struck a bold note in the days when chauvinism and jingoism were the fashions almost everywhere in the world. In his international outlook Tagore, in fact, was ahead of his time. Tagore, to use the words of Romain Rolland “contributed more than anyone towards the union of the two hemispheres of the spirit.” “In a very real sense Tagore,” writes Pearl S. Buck, “was a world poet ... his eyes were fixed upon the future of mankind when goodness and beauty shall flower out of inspired love, but he lives in the present and his words are valued for the present.” The culminating point of Tagore’s world outlook is Vishva-Bharati, the international university he founded in 1921. It has drawn as visitors some of Europe’s foremost scholars; while the West came to Vishva-Bharati, Tagore went several times to Europe and America. He lectured at Oxford and Harvard, and with him everywhere went the spirit of India. Blessed with complete freedom of mind he had as much to give as to receive. Tagore is one of the supreme lyric poets of the world. His lyrics are characterized by the sincerity of feelings and vividness of imagery. The music of his verse haunts the reader long after the actual words are forgotten. He loved the earth passionately. There is a hardly a single mood of day or night or of the circling seasons which Tagore has not caught in his poetry. Tagore’s uniqueness as a poet lies in his appeal to the eastern as well as the western mind. He belongs alike to the East and to the West. He seeks a syn¬ thesis between Indian traditional values and the materialist concept that came surging from abroad and made a decisive impact on thinking in India. He has no patience with nationalism in the narrow sense of the word, though he is a patriot to the core of his heart. India, he repeatedly points out, has always been the meeting ground of diverse cultures. On Indian soil, age after age, those cultures blended and It is not only the beauty of nature that bound Tagore so intimately to the earth. He also loved the earth as the abode of man. We hear in his poerqs the “still sad music of humanity” and “fever and fret” of human beings caught in the snares of misfortune. His soul responded sharply to the nationalistic move¬ ment of the age, and he gave expression to the agonies of downtrodden and outcasts in his poems. Imbedded as he was with deep humanity and pas¬ sionate yearning for justice, Tagore was attracted by social and political themes. He has written some bit- 78

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Bill Paranuick Tom Gamble

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ter satires against the prejudices and superstitions of his own people. With a few exceptions even they show his essential humanism. Even his patriotic poems are imbued with a feeling for all humanity. Tagore’s poetry, in a word, is an amalgam of the rich classical heritage of ancient India, the spacious ways of the medieval India, the simple varieties of the life of common people, and the restless energy and intellectual vigour of modern Europe. He is an inheritor of all times and all cultures. I shall conclude this article with three poems of Rabindranath Tagore: LEAVE THY CHANTING AND SINGING OF SONGS Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee. He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in shower, and His gar¬ ment is covered with dust. Put off thy holy mantle and even like Him come down on the dusty soil. Deliverance? Where is deliverance to be found? Our Master Himself has joyfully taken upon Him the bonds of Creation; He is bound with us all forever. Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense. What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and stained? Meet Him and stand by Him in toil and in sweat of thy brow. When it was day they came into my house and said, “We shall only take the smallest room here.” They said, “We shall help you in the worship of your God and humbly accept only our own share of His grace,” and then they took their seat in a corner and they sat quiet and meek. But in the darkness of night I find they break into my sacred shrine, strong and turbulent, and snatch with unholy hands the offerings from God’s altar. Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into frag¬ ments by narrow domestic walls; Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection; Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way in the dreary desert sand of dead habit; Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever- widening thought and action Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake. (Mrs.) Subhadra Bakshi, Class A. BRONCO BUSTING The saddle is tight, My spurs just right, He’s tense as I grab the horn; I spring a bit Now in the saddle I sit— To him this is really foreign. He looks left,—right, I’m not in sight, “Oh, there you are up there; Well, hold it a bit, And I’ll work up a fit Then send you out there somewhere.” He may give you a chance And start with a prance, But then he feels your weight; He makes up his mind To leave you behind By doing a figure eight. I’m right in time When he spins on a dime, Then throws himself up high; He comes down with a jolt As stiff as a bolt Then his feet go up in the sky. But I stick tight —the end is in sight, I’ll soon be his master to reck. Soon he will stand, And flinch at my hand As I wipe the foam from his neck. I step down from above, Then pull off a glove And rub down his glossy frame; I roll a smoke Then his mane I stroke, And think of the next to tame. Bev Chisan, Class C. 79