ERE THE SUN SETS
There is so much to learn, so little of life left ; so much to do, so little of scope in the absence of sympathy for a higher cause ; so much to submit, so little of light lit in the interior of the heart that at times life itself seems insipid, at other times an exercise in futility in the absence of real realisation of a deeper purpose to fulfil, a deeper end to dive into. Life has been spent in vain, then it seems, yet carries on with its own inertia. But there are moments of inspiration when fleeting pulses of unbounded joy fill the heart with a fresher release of energy and hope, and then life springs anew with verve and vigour to do yet some creative renovation of oneself and one's larger ambit in living humanity, some innovation of the rekindled spirit that lends meaning to life yet.
The tussle has ever been there, but whereas in youth it was a battle for the recognition of one's vocation and the harnessing of the necessary energy to give expression to it, in advancing years it is an inner struggle against disillusionment and even despair when one beholds the paucity of perceptive minds who can understand what one wishes to communicate. Ultimately, man is a gregarious being -- not quite a social animal which the good-humoured His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama is wont to saying -- and needs to communicate effectively. When this is possible, one flourishes, else, one withers away, wears off into dusty death. Which of these outcomes awaits one is yet to reveal, and it will do so in the fullness of time as per karmic resolution, but whichever way it goes, one wishes to see one's end in a blaze of light and not in dying flickering embers. May the swansong be well sung and may the participating chorus or the lonesome soloist render the last lines in a befitting harmony of chords !
Written by Sugata Bose
P.S. Rajarshi, those Yashley days when we revelled like children of light ! Alas, Vedantaprana Mataji is gone !
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