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Book Four Canto IV: The Quest |
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At
first Savitri's mind is occupied with the strangeness of the scenes opening
before her as she drives her chariot. But soon a deeper consciousness grows up
and she begins to feel all as her own, as once known to her. Old memories
well up and there is a sense of continuity of purpose and action from the
past. Some
guidance leads her carriage; the godheads move who always act from behind the
veil working out the destiny which is but the Spirit's will. A calm Presence
above her chooses each turn on the way. Her
journey runs across crowded cities, forts, gardens and temples. During nights
she rests in the palaces on the route. Then she comes into the countryside
where Nature is fresh, not yet peopled with human cares and joys. She feels
the closeness of the Earth and hears her inarticulate voice. Her
nature is in communion with her Maker. King-sages
come to share in her happy' peace after their life of strife and labour. Some
retire into the recesses of the soul and realise oneness with the world. Some
break through the walls of the mind and soar into the heights of the Spirit
from where Truth leans down on them. Ascetics sit in concentration waiting
upon the Immutable and the Ineffable. Seers
tune themselves to the universal Will and lie content in God. The young
disciples around them are fashioned by their touch and greatened in their
presence. In this air king-children play and grow in heroic moulds. Sages
breathing freedom and joy assist the entry of gods on earth, teach the young
to think and live high. Their presence, even their silence is of help to
earth. In their environs beasts forget their enmities and join in friendship.
Some, who go beyond the confines of thought, bring back to earth Force and
Light from Beyond. Some watch as witnesses from their Silence, some disappear
into the Vast. Savitri
journeys through all these retreats, halts in the hermitages during nights or
rests in the open, on the banks of rivers, in solitary tracts, in desert
spaces. But
still the quest is not accomplished, the destined faced is not yet found. In
the meanwhile the spring is gone and the burning summer is on. |