389 Give me grace
Let the grace uphold me
And let your compassion grow more
I come unto you seeking your mercy
What else can I say?
Let your graceful eyes and
The protecting hands
Give more and more (grace)
To the bhaktas who are seeking it
Don’t I have a place?
In your kind heart
Need me to ask this
Does your heart not melt for me?
Why this trial
I need no more pain (and suffering)
You came to protect us
But why you forgot this?
However I lament
And cry unable to understand
This life on earth is a burden
Enough is enough, please take care of me
There are no more words to utter
And I don’t have any more energy to cry
I don’t have any more words with me
To say this unto you
(I don’t have any more tears
To weep further)
24-2-16, Mathigiri, 2.55 pm.
This poem I wrote after reading ‘Lured by Hope: A Biography of Michael Madhusudan Dutt’ by Ghulam Murshid, trs. Gopa Majumadar, OUP, New Delhi, 2003.
I began to read the book on 21st night. But the subject of the book and the way it is written never allowed me keep it down. But due to other responsibilities, I cannot complete the reading in one sitting. And on 23rd night, unable to keep the book down, I continued to read up to 1.00 am (in the midnight). However thanks to the bore-well drilling in my neighbourhood I got up by 3.00. I couldn’t sleep further, though I got irritated and made several failed attempts to stop it by calling police and also lodging complaints in Senior Citizen Grievance. Then I used it an opportunity to read the book and read it up to 6.00 am. As I have to go to the Ashram in the afternoon I took it with me and also read in the travel, which I generally avoid for the safety of my eyes. So when I returned back to Mathigiri in the evening and due to extreme tiredness lay down, again I took the book and continued the reading. Though my eyes become very heavy with sleep, still I couldn’t keep the book down. So naturally, as I want to complete the reading, on 24 leaving other reading, I took the book and completed the reading.
But when I was reading the painful death and all the crisis related with the burial of his dead body, my heart really moved for Dutt. Particularly the way he and Henrietta were doing their final battle, which was recorded by his close friend Gourdas made me to shed tears:
I shall never be able to forget the heartbreaking sight that met my eyes when I saw Madhu…He was lying in bed, gasping. Blood was oozing out of his mouth. His wife was lying on the floor, running a very high temperature. Madhu saw me enter the room and raised himself. Then he started crying. What was upsetting him most was that he could not take care of his wife. He was not concerned with his own pain and discomfort. What he told me was this: ‘afflictions in battalions’. I bent over his wife and felt her forehead and pulse. She pointed at her husband, sighed and broke into sobs. She said, ‘Don’t worry about me, look after him. I am not afraid of death’. {quoted by Jogindranath Basu}—p. 204
Finally after complete the reading; I reflected the drama that went regarding the crises related to his burial:
…On 28 June, {1873} when Madhu was lying in his deathbed, all hope gone, {Rev.} Krishnamohan {Bandyopadhyay} arrived to get his final confession. It is not known what Madhu confessed. What is known is Madhu’s reply when both Krishnamohan and Chandranath {Bholanath} pointed out to him that there might be problems regarding his funeral and burial. According to Rev. Joseph Prannath Biswas, Pastor of Trinity Church, Calcutta, Madhu said: ‘I care not for man-made churches nor for anybody’s help. I am going to sleep in my Lord and He will hide me in His best resting place. Bury me wherever you like—at your door or under a tree; let none disturb my bones. Let green turf grow over my resting place on earth.’(italics original)—p. 206
After reading this, keeping my head on my hands bowing down I remain silent for several minutes, unable to do anything further.
Dutt deserted his parents for his (love) marriage. Later even after marrying as per his wish, deserting his legally wedded wife and four children, living with another woman (Henrietta) and having four more children (one died immediately after its birth), Lured by hope leading an extravagant life, his life ended with great tragedy, in spite of his success as a great poet of Bengal.
Indian literacy has very few tragedies, unlike the Greeks. But Madhu’s life is the best tragedy that I ever read about an Indian. And when I was thinking about his life, I thought what he might be saying to the Lord as prayer—if at all he ever prayed in his life. Probably he might be pleading for more grace to uphold him. Then I imagined what he would have written expressing that tragic movement of his life on his death bed. That time the first line of this song came in my mind. Then stepping in his shoes I wrote this song as his prayer, though I can never claim that I am poet or my songs can be called poetry in its orthodox sense.
389 வழங்குவாய்
கிருபை என்னைத் தாங்கட்டும்
கருணை மேலும் வளரட்டும்
இரக்கம் தேடி வந்தேனே
இன்னும் என்ன சொல்லட்டும்
கருணை கொண்ட கண்களும்
காக்கும் உனது கரங்களும்
அருளை நாடும் அடியார்க்கு
அள்ளி இன்னும் வழங்கட்டும்
இரக்கம் கொண்ட மனதிலே
எனக்கும் இடமே இல்லையோ
இதனை நானும் சொல்லவோ
இதயம் உருக வில்லையோ
எதற்கு இந்தச் சோதனை
இனியும் வேண்டாம் வேதனை
எம்மை காக்க வந்தாயே
இதனை ஏனோ மறந்தாயே
புலம்பித் தவித்த போதிலும்
புரிய மறுத்துக் கதறினும்
புவியின் வாழ்வும் பாரமே
போதும் போதும் காருமே
கூற மொழியும் இல்லையே
கதறத் தெம்பும் இல்லையே
இதற்கு மேலும் சொல்லிட
என்னில் வார்த்தை இல்லையே
(இதற்கு மேலும் அழுதிடக்
கண்ணீர் என்னில் இல்லையே)
24-2-16, மத்திகிரி, மதியம் 2.55