No More Learning

We are just what you see. That's our only description.

_Watchman_

But what do you want?

We want the Old Man.

_Watchman_

Which old man?

That eternal Old Man.

_Watchman_

How absurd! While you are seeking him, he is after you.

Why?

_Watchman_

He is fond of warming his cold blood with the wine of hot youth.

We'll give him a warm enough reception. All we want is to see
him. Have you seen him?

_Watchman_

My watch is at night. I see my people, but don't know their
features. But, look here, every one knows that he is the great
kidnapper; and you want to kidnap him! It's midsummer madness.

The secret is out. It doesn't take long to discover that we are
mad.

_Watchman_

I am the Watchman. The people I see passing along the road are
all very much alike. Therefore, when I see anything queer, it
always strikes me.

Just listen to him. All the respectable people of our
neighbourhood say just the same thing--that we are queer.

Yes, we're queer. There's no mistake about that.

_Watchman_

But all this is utter childishness.

Do you hear that? It's exactly what our Dada says.

We have been going on with our childishness through unremembered
ages.

And now we have become confirmed children.

And we have a leader, who is a perfect veteran in childhood. He
rushes along so recklessly, that he drops off his age at every
step he runs.

_Watchman_

And who are you?

We are butterflies, freed from the cocoon of Age.

_Watchman_

[_Aside. _] Mad. Raving mad.

_Ferryman_

Then what will you all do now?

_Chandra_

We shall go----

_Watchman_

Where?

_Chandra_

That we haven't decided.

_Watchman_

You have decided to go, but not where to go?

_Chandra_

Yes, that will be settled as we go along.

_Watchman_

What does that mean?

_Chandra_

It means this song.

(_They sing. _)

_We move and move without rest,
We move while the wanderers' stars shine in the sky and fade.
We play the tune of the road
While our limbs scatter away the laughter of movement,
And our many-coloured mantle of youth flutters about in the air. _

_Watchman_

Is it your custom to answer questions by songs?

_Chandra_

Yes, otherwise the answer becomes too unintelligible.

_Watchman_

Then you think your songs intelligible?

_Chandra_

Yes, quite, because they contain music. (_They sing. _)

_We move and move without rest.
World, the Rover, loves his comrades of the road.
His call comes across the sky.
The seasons lead the way, strewing the path with flowers. _

_Watchman_

No ordinary being ever breaks out singing, like this, in the
middle of talking.

_Chandra_

Again we are found out. We are no ordinary beings.

_Watchman_

Have you got no work to do?

_Chandra_

No, we are on a holiday.

_Watchman_

Why?

_Chandra_

Lest our time should all be wasted.

_Watchman_

I don't quite understand you.

_Chandra_

Then we shall be obliged to sing again.

_Watchman_

No, no. There's no need to do that. I don't hope to understand
you any better, even if you do sing.

_Chandra_

Everybody has given up the hope of understanding us.

_Watchman_

But how can things get on with you, if you behave like this?

_Chandra_

Oh, there's no need for things to get on with us, so long as we
ourselves get on.

_Watchman_

Mad! Quite mad! Raving mad!

_Chandra_

Why, here comes our Dada.

Dada, what made you lag behind?

_Chandra_

Don't you know? We are free as the wind, because we have no
substance in us. But Dada is like the rain-cloud of August. He
must stop, every now and then, to unburden himself.

_Dada_

Who are you?

_Ferryman_

I am the Ferryman.

_Dada_

And who are you?

_Watchman_

I am the Watchman.

_Dada_

I am delighted to see you. I want to read you something that I
have written. It contains nothing frivolous, but only the most
important lessons.

_Ferryman_

Very good. Let us have it then.

_Watchman_

Our master used to tell us that there are plenty of men to say
good things, but very few to listen. That requires strength of
mind. Now, go on, Sir, go on.

_Dada_

I saw, in the street, one of the King's officers dragging along a
merchant. The King had made up a false charge, in order to get
his money. This gave me an inspiration. You must know that I
never write a single line which is not inspired by some actual
fact. You can put my verses to the test in the open streets and
markets----

_Ferryman_

Please, Sir, do let us hear what you have written.

_Dada_

_The sugar-cane filling itself with juice
Is chewed and sucked dry by all beggars.
O foolish men, take your lesson from this;
Those trees are saved, which are fruitful. _

You will understand that the sugar-cane gets into trouble, simply
because it tries to keep its juice. But nobody is so foolish as
to kill the tree that freely gives fruit.

_Watchman_

What splendid writing, Ferryman!

_Ferryman_

Yes, Watchman, it contains great lessons for us.

_Watchman_

It gives me food for thought. If only I had here our neighbour,
the Scribe! I should like to take this down. Do send round to
tell the people of the place to assemble.

_Chandra_

But, Ferryman, you promised to come out with us. Yet, if once
Dada begins to quote his quatrains, there will be----

_Ferryman_

Go along with you. None of your madness here. We are fortunate
now in having met our master. Let us improve the occasion with
good words. We are all of us getting old. Who knows when we shall
die?

All the more reason why you should cultivate our company.

_Chandra_

You can always find another Dada. But when once we are dead, God
will never repeat the blunder of another absurdity like us again.

(_Enter Oilman. _)

_Oilman_

Ho! Watchman.

_Watchman_

Who is there? Is that the Oilman?

_Oilman_

The child I was bringing up was kidnapped last night.

_Watchman_

By whom?

_Oilman_

By the Old Man.

_Youths_

[_Together. _] Old Man? You don't mean it. Old Man?

_Oilman_

Yes, Sirs, the Old Man; what makes you so glad?

Oh, that's a bad habit of ours. We become glad for no reason
whatever.

_Watchman_

[_Aside. _] Mad! Raving mad! Have you seen the Old Man?

_Oilman_

I think I saw him in the distance last night.

_First Youth_

What did he look like?

_Oilman_

Black. More black than our brother here, the Watchman. Black as
night, with two eyes on his breast shining like two glow-worms.

That won't suit us. That would be awkward for our Spring
Festival.

_Chandra_

We shall have to change our date from the full moon to the dark
moon. For the dark moon has no end of eyes on her breast.

_Watchman_

But I warn you, my friends, you are not doing wisely.

No, we are not.

We are found out again. We never do anything wisely. It is
contrary to our habit.

_Watchman_

Do you take this to be a joke? I warn you, my friends, it is
dangerous.

Dangerous? That's the best joke of all.

(_They sing. _)

_We are neither too good nor wise,
That is all the merit we have.
Our calumny spreads from land to land,
And danger dogs our steps.
We take great care to forget what is taught us,
We say things different from the book,
Bringing upon us trouble,
And rebuke from the learned. _

_Watchman_

Ah, Sir, you spoke about some Leader. Where is he? He could have
kept you in order, if he were with you.

He never stays with us, lest he should have to keep us in order.

He simply launches us on our way, and then slips off.

_Watchman_

That's a poor idea of leadership.

_Chandra_

He is never concerned about his leadership. That is why we
recognize him as our Leader.

_Watchman_

Then he has got a very easy task.

_Chandra_

It is no easy task to lead men. But it is easy enough to drive
them.

(_They sing. _)

_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.