No More Learning

_)

_We are not too good nor wise,
That is all the merit we have.
In a luckless moment we were born,
When the star of wisdom was the dimmest.
We can hope for no profit from our adventures,
We move on, because we must. _

Dada, come on. Let us go.

_Watchman_

No, no, Sir. Don't you get yourself into mischief in their
company.

_Ferryman_

You read your verses, Sir, to us. Our neighbours will be here
soon. They will be greatly profited.

_Dada_

No. I'm not going to move a step from here.

Then let us move. The men in the street can't bear us.

That's because we rattle them too much.

You hear the hum of human bees, they smell the honey of Dada's
quatrains.

_Youths_

[_Together. _] They come! They come!

(_Enter Village folk. _)

_Villager_

Is it true that there is going to be a reading?

Who are you? Are _you_ going to read?

No. We commit all kinds of atrocities, but not that. This one
merit will bring us salvation.

_Villager_

What do they say? They seem to be talking in riddles.

_Chandra_

We only say things which we perfectly understand ourselves, and
they are riddles to you. Dada repeats to you things which you
understand perfectly and these sound to you the very essence of
wisdom.

(_Boy enters. _)

_Boy_

I couldn't catch him.

Whom?

_Boy_

The Old Man, whom you are seeking.

Have you seen him?

_Boy_

Yes, I thought I saw him going by in a car.

Where? In what direction?

_Boy_

I couldn't make out exactly. The dust raised by his wheels is
still whirling in the air.

Then let us go.

He has filled the sky with dead leaves.

[_They go out. _

_Watchman_

They are mad! Quite mad! Raving mad!




ACT III

SONG-PRELUDE


[_Winter is being unmasked--his hidden youth about to be
disclosed. _]

_The rear stage lighted up, disclosing Winter and the Heralds of
Spring. _


SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING

_How grave he looks, how laughably old,
How solemnly quiet among death preparations!
Come, friends, help him to find himself before he reaches home.
Change his pilgrim's robe into the dress of the singing youth,
Snatch away his bag of dead things
And confound his calculations. _

(_Another group sings. _)

_The time comes when the world shall know that you're not banished in
your own shadows;
Your heart shall burst in torrents
Out of the clasp of the ice;
And your North wind turn its face
Against the haunts of the flitting phantoms.
There sounds the magician's drum,
And the sun waits with laughter in his glance,
To see your grey turn into green. _

(_Evening_)

[_The rear stage is darkened; the light on the main stage dimmed
to the greyness of dark. _]

_Band of Youths_

They all cry, "There, there," and when we look for it, we find
nothing but dust and dry leaves.

I thought I had a glimpse of the flag on his car through the
cloud.

It is difficult to follow his track. Now it seems East: now it
seems West.

And so we are tired, chasing shadows all day long. And the day
has been lost.

I tell you the truth. Fear comes more and more into my mind, as
the day passes.

We have made a mistake. The morning light whispered in our ears,
"Bravo, march on. " And now, the evening light is mocking us for
that.

I am afraid we have been deceived. I am beginning to feel greater
respect for Dada's quatrains than before. We shall all be soon
sitting down on the ground composing quatrains.

And then the whole neighbourhood will come, swarming round us.
And they will get such immense benefit from our wisdom that they
will never leave us.

And we shall settle down like a great big boulder, cold and
immovable.

And they will cling to us, as we sit there, like a thick fog.

What would our Leader think of us, I wonder, if he could hear us
now?

I am sure it is our Leader, who has led us astray. He makes us
toil for nothing, while he himself remains idle.

Let us go back and fight with him. We will tell him that we won't
move a step further, but sit with our legs tucked under us. These
legs are wretched vagabonds. They are always trudging the road.

We will keep our hands fast behind our backs.

There is no mischief in the back; all the trouble is in the
front.

Of all our limbs, the back is the most truthful. It says to us,
"Lie down. "

When we are young, that braggart breast is a great swell; but, in
the end, we can only rely on our back.

The little stream that flows past our village comes to my mind.
That morning we thought that it said to us, "Forward! Forward! "
But what it really said was, "False! False! " The world is all
false.

Our Pundit used to tell us that.

We shall go straight to the Pundit, when we get back.

We shall never stir one step outside the limit of the Pundit's
Scriptures.

What a mistake we made. We thought that moving itself was
something heroic.

But really not to move, that is heroic, because it is defying the
whole moving world.

Brave rebels that we are, we shall _not_ move. We shall have the
audacity to sit still, and never move an inch.

"Life and youth are fleeting," the Scripture says. Let life and
youth go to the dogs, we shall not move.

"Our minds and wealth are fleeting," adds the Scripture. "Give
them up and sit still," say we.

Let us go back to the point from which we started.

But that would be to move.

What then?

There sit down, where we have come to.

And let us imagine that there we had been before we ever came
there.

Yes, yes, that will keep our minds still. If we know that we have
come from somewhere else, then the mind longs for that somewhere
else.

That land of somewhere else is a very dangerous place.

There the ground moves, and also the roads. But as for us----

(_They sing. _)

_We cling to our seats and never stir,
We allow our flowers to fade in peace, and avoid the trouble of
bearing fruit.
Let the starlights blazon their eternal folly,
We quench our flames.
Let the forest rustle and the ocean roar,
We sit mute.
Let the call of the flood-tide come from the sea,
We remain still. _

Do you hear that laughter?

Yes, yes, it is laughter.

What a relief! We have never heard that sound for an age.

We had been choking, for want of the breath of laughter.

This laughter comes to us like the April rain.

Whose is it?

Cannot you guess? It is our Chandra.

What a marvellous gift of laughter he has! It is like a
waterfall. It dashes all the black stones out of the path.

It is like sunlight. It cuts the mist to pieces with its sword.

Now all danger of quatrain fever is over. Let us get up.

From this moment there will be nothing but work for us. As the
Scripture says, "Everything in this world is fleeting, and he
only lives who does his duty and achieves fame. "

Why are you quoting that? Are you still suffering from the
quatrain fever?

What do you mean by fame? Does the river take any heed of its
foam? Fame is that foam on life's stream.

(_Enter Chandra with a blind Minstrel. _)

Well, Chandra, what makes you so glad?

_Chandra_

I have got the track of the Old Man.

From whom?

_Chandra_

From this old Minstrel.

He seems to be blind.

_Chandra_

Yes, that is why he has not got to seek the road.

What do you say? Shall you be able to lead us right?

_Minstrel_

Yes.

But how?

_Minstrel_

Because I can hear the footsteps.

We also have ears, but----

_Minstrel_

I hear with my whole being.

_Chandra_

They all started up with fear, when I asked about the Old Man.
Only this Minstrel seemed to have no fear. I suppose because he
cannot see, he is not afraid.

_Minstrel_

Do you know why I have no fear? When the sun of my life set, and
I became blind, the dark night revealed all its lights, and, from
that day forward, I have been no more afraid of the dark.

Then let us go. The evening star is up.

_Minstrel_

Let me sing, and walk on as I sing, and you follow me. I cannot
find my way, if I do not sing.

What do you mean?

_Minstrel_

My songs precede, I follow.

(_He sings. _)

_Gently, my friend, gently walk to your silent chamber.
I know not the way, I have not the light,
Dark is my life and my world.
I have only the sound of your steps to guide me in this wilderness. _

_Gently, my friend, gently walk along the dark shore.
Let the hint of the way come in whisper,
Through the night, in the April breeze.
I have only the scent of your garland to guide me in this
wilderness. _




ACT IV

SONG-PRELUDE


[_There enter a troupe of young things, and they introduce
themselves in a song as follows:_]


THE SONG OF RETURNING YOUTH

_Again and again we say "Good-bye,"
To come back again and again.
Oh, who are you?
I am the flower vakul.
And who are you?
I am the flower parul.
And who are these?
We are mango blossoms landed on the shore of light.
We laugh and take leave when the time beckons us.
We rush into the arms of the ever-returning.
But who are you?
I am the flower shimul.
And who are you?
I am the kamini bunch,
And who are these?
We are the jostling crowd of new leaves. _

[_Winter is revealed as Spring and answers to the questions put
by the chorus of young things. _]


THE SONG OF BURDENS DROPPED

_Do you own defeat at the hand of youth?
Yes.
Have you met at last the ageless Old, who ever grows new?
Yes.
Have you come out of the walls that crumble and bury those whom they
shelter?
Yes. _

(_Another group sings. _)

_Do you own defeat at the hands of life?
Yes.
Have you passed through death to stand at last face to face with the
Deathless?
Yes.
Have you dealt the blow to the demon dust, that swallows your city
Immortal?
Yes. _

(_Spring's flowers surround him and sing.
_)


THE SONG OF FRESH BEAUTY

_We waited by the wayside counting moments till you appeared in the
April morning.
You come as a soldier-boy winning life at death's gate,--
Oh, the wonder of it.
We listen amazed at the music of your young voice.
Your mantle is blown in the wind like the fragrance of the Spring.
The white spray of_ malati _flowers in your hair shines like
star-clusters.
A fire burns through the veil of your smile,--
Oh, the wonder of it.
And who knows where your arrows are hidden which smite death? _

(_Night_)

[_The rear stage is darkened, and the light on the main stage
dimmed to the heavy purple blackness of mourning. _]

(_Enter the Band of Youths. _)

Chandra has gone away again, leaving us behind.

It is difficult to keep him still.

We get our rest by sitting down, but he gets his by walking on.

He has gone across the river with the blind minstrel, in whose
depth of blindness Chandra is seeking the invisible light.

That is why our Leader calls him the Diver.

Our life becomes utterly empty, when Chandra is away.

Do you feel as though something was in the air?

The sky seems to be looking into our face, like a friend bidding
farewell.

This little stream of water is trickling through the _casuarina_
grove. It seems like the tears of midnight.

We have never gazed upon the earth before with such intentness.

When we run forward at full speed, our eyes keep gazing in front
of us, and we see nothing on either side of us.

If things did not move on and vanish, we should see no beauty
anywhere.

If youth had only the heat of movement, it would get parched and
withered. But there is ever the hidden tear, which keeps it
fresh.

The cry of the world is not only "I have," but also "I give. " In
the first dawning light of creation, "I have" was wedded to "I
give. " If this bond of union were to snap, then everything would
go to ruin.

I don't know where that blind Minstrel has landed us at last.

It seems as though these stars in the sky above us are the
gazing of countless eyes we met in all forgotten ages. It seems
as if, through the flowers, there came the whisper of those we
have forgotten, saying Remember us.

Our hearts will break if we do not sing.

(_They sing. _)

_Did you leave behind you your love, my heart, and miss peace through
all your days?
And is the path you followed lost and forgotten, making your return
hopeless?
I go roaming listening to brooks' babble, to the rustle of leaves.
And it seems to me that I shall find the way, that reaches the land of
lost love beyond the evening stars. _

What a strange tune is this, that comes out of the music of
Spring.

It seems like the tune of yellow leaves.

Spring has stored up its tears in secret for us all this while.

It was afraid we should not understand it, because we were so
youthful.

It wanted to beguile us with smiles.

But we shall sleep our hearts tonight in the sadness of the other
shore.

Ah, the dear earth! The beautiful earth! She wants all that we
have--the touch of our hands, the song of our hearts.

She wants to draw out from us all that is within, hidden even
from ourselves.

This is her sorrow, that she finds out some things only to know
that she has not found all. She loses before she attains.

Ah, the dear earth! We shall never deceive you.

(_They sing. _)

_I shall crown you with my garland, before I take leave.
You ever spoke to me in all my joys and sorrows.
And now, at the end of the day, my own heart will break in speech.
Words came to me, but not the tune, and the song that I never sang
to you remains hidden behind my tears. _

Brother, did you notice that some one seemed to have passed by?

The only thing you feel is this passing by.

I felt the touch of the mantle of some wayfarer.

We came out to capture somebody, but now we feel the longing to
be captured ourselves.

Ah, here comes the Minstrel. Where have you brought us? The
breath of the wayfaring world touches us here,--the breath of the
starry sky.

We came seeking a new form of play. But now we have forgotten
what play it was.

We wanted to catch the Old Man.

And everybody said that he was terrifying, a bodiless head, a
gaping mouth, a dragon eager to swallow the moon of the youth of
the world. But now we are no longer afraid. The flowers go, the
leaves go, the waves in the river go, and we shall also follow
them. Ah, blind Minstrel, strike your lute and sing to us. Who
knows what is the hour of the night?

(_The Minstrel sings. _)

_Let me give my all to him, before I am asked, whom the world offers
its all.
When I came to him for my gifts, I was not afraid;
And I will not fear, when I come to him, to give up what I have.
The morning accepts his gold with songs, the evening pays him back the
debt of gold and is glad.
The joy of the blooming flower comes to fruit with shedding of its
leaves.
Hasten, my heart, and spend yourself in love, before the day is done. _

Minstrel, why is Chandra still absent?

_Minstrel_

Don't you know that he has gone?

Gone? --Where?

_Minstrel_

He said, I shall go and conquer him.

Whom?

_Minstrel_

The One who is feared by all. He said, "Why else am I young? "

Ah, that was fine. --Dada goes to read his quatrains to the
village people, and Chandra has disappeared,--for what purpose
nobody knows.

_Minstrel_

He said, "Men have always been fighting for a cause. It is the
shock of that, which ruffles the breeze of this Spring. "

The shock?

_Minstrel_

Yes, the message that man's fight is not yet over.

Is this the message of Spring?

_Minstrel_

Yes. Those, who have been made immortal by death, have sent their
message in these fresh leaves of Spring. It said, "We never
doubted the way. We never counted the cost: we rushed out: we
blossomed. If we had sat down to debate, then where would be the
Spring? "

Has that made Chandra mad?

_Minstrel_

He said----

(_The Minstrel sings. _)

_The Spring flowers have woven my wreath of victory,
The South wind breathes its breath of fire in my blood.
The voice of the house-corner wails in vain from behind.
Death stands before me, offering its crown.
The tempest of youth sweeps the skyharp with its fingers;
My heart dances in its wild rhythm.
Gathering and storing are not for me,
I spend and scatter.
And prudence and comfort bid me adieu in despair. _

But where has he gone to?

_Minstrel_

He said, "I cannot keep waiting by the wayside any longer. I must
go and meet him, and conquer him. "

But which way did he take?

_Minstrel_

He has entered the cave.

How is that? It is so fearfully dark. Did he, without making any
enquiries----

_Minstrel_

Yes, he went in to make enquiries himself.

When will he come back?

I don't believe he will ever come back.

But if Chandra leaves us, then life is not worth living.

What shall we say to our Leader?

The Leader also will leave us.

Didn't he leave any message for us before he disappeared?

_Minstrel_

He said, "Wait for me. I shall return. "

Return? How are we to know it?

_Minstrel_

He said, "I will conquer, and then come back again. "

Then we shall wait for him all night.

But, Minstrel, where have we got to wait for him?

_Minstrel_

Before that cave, from whence the stream of water comes flowing
out.

Which way did he go to get there?

The darkness there is like a dark sword.

_Minstrel_

He followed the sound of the night-bird's wings.

Why did you not go with him?

_Minstrel_

He left me behind to give you hope.

When did he go?

_Minstrel_

In the first hour of the watch.

Now the third hour has passed, I think. The air is chilly.

I dreamt that three women, with their hair hanging loose----

Oh, leave off your dream-women. I am sick of your dreams.

Everything appears darkly ominous. I didn't notice before the
hooting of the owl. But now----

Do you hear that dog whining on the far bank of the river?

It seems as though a witch were riding upon him and lashing him.

Surely, if it had been possible, Chandra would have come back by
now.

How I wish this night were over.

Do you hear the woman's cry?

Oh, the women, the women. They are ever crying and weeping. But
they cannot turn those back, who must go forward.

It is getting unbearable to sit still like this. Men imagine all
sorts of things when they sit still. Let us go also. As soon as
we are started on our way fear will leave us.

But who will show us the way?

There is the blind Minstrel.

What do you say, Minstrel? Can you show us the way?

_Minstrel_

Yes.

But we can hardly believe you. How can you find out the path by
simply singing?

If Chandra never comes back, you shall.

We never knew that we loved Chandra so intensely. We made light
of him all these days.

When we are in the playing mood, we become so intent on the play,
that we neglect the playmate.

But, if he once comes back, we shall never neglect him any more.

I am afraid that we have often given him pain.

Yet his love rose above all that. We never knew how beautiful he
was, when we could see him every day.

(_They sing. _)

_When there was light in my world
You stood outside my eyes.
Now that there is none,
You come into my heart.
When there were dolls for me, I played;
You smiled and watched from the door.
Now that the dolls have crumbled to dust,
You come and sit by me.
And I have only my heart for my music,
When my lute-strings have broken. _

That Minstrel sits so still and silent. I don't like it.

He looks ominous,--like the lowering autumn cloud.

Let us dismiss him.

No, no. It gives us heart, when he sits there.

Don't you see that there is no sign of fear in his face?

It seems as if some messages were striking his forehead. His body
appears to espy some one in the distance. There seem to be eyes
on the tips of his fingers.

Simply by watching him, we can see that some one is coming
through the dark.

Look. He is standing up. He is turning towards the East, and
making his obeisance.

Yet there is nothing to be seen, not even a streak of light.

Why not ask him what it is that he sees?

No, don't disturb him.

Do you know, it seems to me that the morning has dawned in him.

As if the ferry-boat of light had reached the shore of his
forehead.

His mind is still, like the morning sky.

The storm of birds' songs will burst out presently.

He is striking his lute. His heart is singing.

Hush. He is singing.

(_The Minstrel sings. _)

_Victory to thee, victory for ever,
O brave heart.
Victory to life, to joy, to love,
To eternal light.
The night shall wane, the darkness shall vanish,
Have faith, brave heart.