You needn't try to
frighten
us like that.
Tagore - Creative Unity
On the main stage, bright,
enter a band of youths whose number may be anything between three
and thirty. They sing. _]
_The fire of April leaps from forest to forest,
Flashing up in leaves and flowers from all nooks and corners.
The sky is thriftless with colours,
The air delirious with songs.
The wind-tost branches of the woodland
Spread their unrest in our blood.
The air is filled with bewilderment of mirth;
And the breeze rushes from flower to flower, asking their names. _
[In the following dialogue only the names of the principal
characters are given. Wherever the name is not given the speaker
is one or other of the Youths. ]
April pulls hard, brother, April pulls very hard.
How do you know that?
If he didn't, he would never have pulled Dada outside his den.
Well, I declare. Here is Dada, our cargo-boat of moral-maxims,
towed against the current of his own pen and ink.
_Chandra_
But you mustn't give April all the credit for that. For I,
Chandra, have hidden the yellow leaves of his manuscript book
among the young buds of the _pial_ forest, and Dada is out
looking for it.
The manuscript book banished! What a good riddance!
We ought to strip off Dada's grey philosopher's cloak also.
_Chandra_
Yes, the very dust of the earth is tingling with youth, and yet
there's not a single touch of Spring in the whole of Dada's
body.
_Dada_
Oh, do stop this fooling. What a nuisance you are making of
yourselves! We aren't children any longer.
_Chandra_
Dada, the age of this earth is scarcely less than yours; and yet
it is not ashamed to look fresh.
Dada, you are always struggling with those quatrains of yours,
full of advice that is as old as death, while the earth and the
water are ever striving to be new.
Dada, how in the world can you go on writing verses like that,
sitting in your den?
_Dada_
Well, you see, I don't cultivate poetry, as an amateur gardener
cultivates flowers. _My_ poems have substance and weight in
them.
Yes, they are like the turnips, which cling to the ground.
_Dada_
Well, then, listen to me----
How awful! Here's Dada going to run amuck with his quatrains.
Oh dear, oh dear! The quatrains are let loose. There's no holding
them in.
To all passers-by I give notice that Dada's quatrains have gone
mad, and are running amuck.
_Chandra_
Dada! Don't take any notice of their fun. Go on with your
reading. If no one else can survive it, I think I can. I am not a
coward like these fellows.
Come on, then, Dada. We won't be cowards. We will keep our
ground, and not yield an inch, but only listen.
We will receive the spear-thrusts of the quatrains on our breast,
not on our back.
But for pity's sake, Dada, give us only one--not more.
_Dada_
Very well. Now listen:
_If bamboos were made only into flutes,
They would droop and die with very shame,
They hold their heads high in the sky,
Because they are variously useful. _
Please, gentlemen, don't laugh. Have patience while I explain.
The meaning is----
The meaning?
What? Must the infantry charge of meaning follow the cannonading
of your quatrains, to complete the rout?
_Dada_
Just one word to make you understand. It means, that if the
bamboos were no better than those noisy instruments----
No, Dada, we must not understand.
I defy you to make us understand.
Dada, if you use force to make us understand we shall use force
to force ourselves not to understand.
_Dada_
The gist of the quatrain is this, that if we do no good to the
world, then----
Then the world will be very greatly relieved.
_Dada_
There is another verse that makes it clearer:
_There are numerous stars in the midnight sky,
Which hang in the air for no purpose;
If they would only come down to earth,
For the street lighting they might be useful. _
I see we must make clearer our meaning. Catch him. Let's raise
him up, shoulder high, and take him back to his den.
_Dada_
Why are you so excited to-day? Have you any particular business
to do?
Yes, we have very urgent business,--very urgent indeed.
_Dada_
What is your business about?
We are out to seek a play for our Spring festival.
_Dada_
Play! Day and night, play!
(_They sing. _)
_We are free, my friends, from the fear of work,
For we know that work is play,--the play of life.
It is Play, to fight and toss, between life and death;
It is Play that flashes in the laughter of light in the infinite
heart;
It roars in the wind, and surges in the sea. _
Oh, here comes our Leader. Brothers--our Leader, our Leader.
_Leader_
Hallo! What a noise you make!
Was it that which made you come out of doors?
_Leader_
Yes.
Well, we did it for that very purpose.
_Leader_
You don't want me to remain indoors?
Why remain indoors? This outer world has been made with a lavish
expenditure of sun and moon and stars. Let us enjoy it, and then
we can save God's face for indulging in such extravagance.
_Leader_
What were you discussing?
This:
(_They sing_. )
_Play blooms in flower and ripens in fruit
In the sunshine of eternal youth.
Play bursts up in the blood-red fire, and licks into ashes the
decaying and the dead. _
Our Dada's objection was about this play.
_Dada_
Shall I tell you the reason why?
Yes, Dada, you may tell us, but we shan't promise to listen.
_Dada_
Here it is:
_Time is the capital of work,
And Play is its defalcation.
Play rifles the house, and then wastes its spoil,
Therefore the wise call it worse than useless. _
_Chandra_
But surely, Dada, you are talking nonsense. Time itself is Play.
Its only object is Pas-time.
_Dada_
Then what is Work?
_Chandra_
Work is the dust raised by the passing of Time.
_Dada_
Leader, you must give us your answers.
_Leader_
No. I never give answers. I lead on from one question to another.
That is my leadership.
_Dada_
Everything else has its limits, but your childishness is
absolutely unbounded.
Do you know the reason? It is because we are really nothing but
children. And everything else has its limitations except the
child.
_Dada_
Won't you ever attain Age?
No, we shall never attain Age.
We shall die old, but never attain Age.
_Chandra_
When we meet Age, we shall shave his head, and put him on a
donkey, and send him across the river.
Oh, you can save yourself the trouble of shaving his head for Age
is bald.
(_They sing_. )
_Our hair shall never turn grey,
Never.
There is no blank in this world for us, no break in our road,
It may be an illusion that we follow,
But it shall never play us false,
Never. _
(_The Leader sings_. )
_Our hair shall never turn grey,
Never.
We will never doubt the world and shut our eyes to ponder.
Never.
We will not grope in the maze of our mind.
We flow with the flood of things, from the mountain to the sea,
We will never be lost in the desert sand,
Never. _
We can tell, by his looks, that Dada will some day go to that Old
Man, to receive his lessons.
_Leader_
Which Old Man?
The Old Man of the line of Adam.
He dwells in a cave, and never thinks of dying.
_Leader_
Where did you learn about him?
Oh, every one talks about him, And it is in the books also.
_Leader_
What does he look like?
Some say he is white, like the skull of a dead man. And some say
he is dark, like the socket of a skeleton's eye.
But haven't you heard any news of him, Leader?
_Leader_
I don't believe in him at all.
Well, that goes entirely against current opinion. That Old Man is
more existent than anything else. He lives within the ribs of
creation.
According to our Pundit, it is we who have no existence. You
can't be certain whether we are, or are not.
_Chandra_
We? Oh, we are too brand new altogether. We haven't yet got our
credentials to prove that we exist.
_Leader_
Have you really gone and opened communication with the Pundits?
Why? What harm is there in that, Leader?
_Leader_
You will become pale, like the white mist in autumn. Even the
least colour of blood will disappear from your mind. I have a
suggestion.
What, Leader? What?
_Leader_
You were looking out for a play?
Yes, yes, we got quite frantic about it.
We thought it over so vigorously, that people had to run to the
King's court to lodge a complaint.
_Leader_
Well, I can suggest a play which will be new.
What? --What? --Tell us.
_Leader_
Go and capture the Old Man.
That is new, no doubt, but we very much doubt if it's a play.
_Leader_
I am sure you won't be able to do it.
Not do it? We shall.
_Leader_
No, never.
Well then, suppose we do capture him, what will you give us?
_Leader_
I shall accept you as my preceptor.
Preceptor! You want to make us grey, and cold, and old, before
our time.
_Leader_
Then, what do you want me to do?
If we capture him, then we shall take away your leadership.
_Leader_
That will be a great relief to me. You have made all my bones out
of joint already. Very well, then it's all settled?
Yes, settled. We shall bring him to you by the next full moon of
Spring.
But what are we going to do with him?
_Leader_
You shall let him join in your Spring Festival.
Oh no, that will be outrageous. Then the mango flowers will run
to seed at once.
And all the cuckoos will become owls.
And the bees will go about reciting Sanskrit verses, making the
air hum with m's and n's.
_Leader_
And your skull will be so top-heavy with prudence, that it will
be difficult for you to keep on your feet.
How awful!
_Leader_
And you will have rheumatics in all your joints.
How awful!
_Leader_
And you will become your own elder brothers, pulling your own
ears to set yourselves right.
How awful!
_Leader_
And----
No more "ands. " We are ready to surrender.
We will abandon our game of capturing the Old Man.
We will put it off till the cold weather. In this Springtime,
your company will be enough for us.
_Leader_
Ah, I see! You have already got the chill of the Old Man in your
bones.
Why? What are the symptoms?
_Leader_
You have no enthusiasm. You back out at the very start. Why
don't you make a trial?
Very well. Agreed. Come on.
Let us go after the Old Man. We will pluck him out, like a grey
hair, wherever we find him.
_Leader_
But the Old Man is an adept in the business of plucking out. His
best weapon is the hoe.
You needn't try to frighten us like that. When we are out for
adventure, we must leave behind all fears, all quatrains, all
Pundits, and all Scriptures.
(_They sing_. )
_We are out on our way
And we fear not the Robber, the Old Man.
Our path is straight, it is broad,
Our burden is light, for our pocket is bare,
Who can rob us of our folly?
For us there is no rest, nor ease, nor praise, nor success,
We dance in the measure of fortune's rise and fall,
We play our game, or win or lose,
And we fear not the Robber. _
ACT II
SONG-PRELUDE
[_Spring's Heralds try to rob Winter of his outfit of age. _]
_Rear stage lighted up, disclosing Old Winter teased by the boys
and girls representing Spring's Heralds. _
SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING
_We seek our playmates,
Waking them up from all corners before it is morning.
We call them in bird songs,
Beckon them in nodding branches.
We spread our spell for them in the splendour of clouds. _
_We laugh at solemn Death
Till he joins in our laughter.
We tear open Time's purse,
Taking back his plunder from him.
You shall lose your heart to us, O Winter.
It will gleam in the trembling leaves
And break into flowers. _
SONG OF WINTER
_Leave me, let me go.
I sail for the bleak North, for the peace of the frozen shore.
Your laughter is untimely, my friends.
You turn my farewell tunes into the welcome song of the Newcomer,
And all things draw me back again into the dancing ring of their
hearts. _
SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING
_Life's spies are we, lurking in ambush everywhere.
We wait to rob you of your last savings of withered hours to scatter
them in the wayward winds.
We shall bind you in flower chains where Spring keeps his captives,
For we know you carry your jewels of youth hidden in your grey rags. _
(_Noon_)
[_The rear stage is darkened. The band of Youths enters on the
main stage. No actual change in the scenery is necessary--this
being left to the imagination of the audience. _]
Ferryman! Ferryman! Open your door.
_Ferryman_
What do you want?
We want the Old Man.
_Ferryman_
Which old man?
Not which old man. We want _the_ Old Man.
_Ferryman_
Who is he?
The true and original Old Man.
_Ferryman_
Oh! I understand. What do you want him for?
For our Spring Festival.
_Ferryman_
For your Spring Festival? Are you become mad?
Not a sudden becoming. We have been like this from the beginning.
And we shall go on like this to the end.
(_They sing. _)
_The Piper pipes in the centre, hidden from sight.
And we become frantic, we dance.
The March wind, seized with frenzy,
Runs and reels, and sways with noisy branches.
The sun and stars are drawn in the whirl of rapture. _
Now, Ferryman, give us news of the Old Man.
You ply your boat from one landing stage to another. Surely you
know where----
_Ferryman_
My business is limited only to the path. But whose path it is,
and what it means, I have no occasion to enquire. For my goal is
the landing-stage, not the house.
Very well. Let us go, let us try all the ways. _(They sing. )_
_The Piper pipes in the centre, hidden from sight.
Ah, the turbulent tune, to whose time the oceans dance,
And dance our heaving hearts.
Fling away all burdens and cares, brother,
Do not be doubtful of your path,
For the path wakes up of itself
Under the dancing steps of freedom. _
_Ferryman_
There comes the Watchman. Ask him. I know about the way; but he
knows about the wayfarers.
_Watchman_
Who are you?
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?
enter a band of youths whose number may be anything between three
and thirty. They sing. _]
_The fire of April leaps from forest to forest,
Flashing up in leaves and flowers from all nooks and corners.
The sky is thriftless with colours,
The air delirious with songs.
The wind-tost branches of the woodland
Spread their unrest in our blood.
The air is filled with bewilderment of mirth;
And the breeze rushes from flower to flower, asking their names. _
[In the following dialogue only the names of the principal
characters are given. Wherever the name is not given the speaker
is one or other of the Youths. ]
April pulls hard, brother, April pulls very hard.
How do you know that?
If he didn't, he would never have pulled Dada outside his den.
Well, I declare. Here is Dada, our cargo-boat of moral-maxims,
towed against the current of his own pen and ink.
_Chandra_
But you mustn't give April all the credit for that. For I,
Chandra, have hidden the yellow leaves of his manuscript book
among the young buds of the _pial_ forest, and Dada is out
looking for it.
The manuscript book banished! What a good riddance!
We ought to strip off Dada's grey philosopher's cloak also.
_Chandra_
Yes, the very dust of the earth is tingling with youth, and yet
there's not a single touch of Spring in the whole of Dada's
body.
_Dada_
Oh, do stop this fooling. What a nuisance you are making of
yourselves! We aren't children any longer.
_Chandra_
Dada, the age of this earth is scarcely less than yours; and yet
it is not ashamed to look fresh.
Dada, you are always struggling with those quatrains of yours,
full of advice that is as old as death, while the earth and the
water are ever striving to be new.
Dada, how in the world can you go on writing verses like that,
sitting in your den?
_Dada_
Well, you see, I don't cultivate poetry, as an amateur gardener
cultivates flowers. _My_ poems have substance and weight in
them.
Yes, they are like the turnips, which cling to the ground.
_Dada_
Well, then, listen to me----
How awful! Here's Dada going to run amuck with his quatrains.
Oh dear, oh dear! The quatrains are let loose. There's no holding
them in.
To all passers-by I give notice that Dada's quatrains have gone
mad, and are running amuck.
_Chandra_
Dada! Don't take any notice of their fun. Go on with your
reading. If no one else can survive it, I think I can. I am not a
coward like these fellows.
Come on, then, Dada. We won't be cowards. We will keep our
ground, and not yield an inch, but only listen.
We will receive the spear-thrusts of the quatrains on our breast,
not on our back.
But for pity's sake, Dada, give us only one--not more.
_Dada_
Very well. Now listen:
_If bamboos were made only into flutes,
They would droop and die with very shame,
They hold their heads high in the sky,
Because they are variously useful. _
Please, gentlemen, don't laugh. Have patience while I explain.
The meaning is----
The meaning?
What? Must the infantry charge of meaning follow the cannonading
of your quatrains, to complete the rout?
_Dada_
Just one word to make you understand. It means, that if the
bamboos were no better than those noisy instruments----
No, Dada, we must not understand.
I defy you to make us understand.
Dada, if you use force to make us understand we shall use force
to force ourselves not to understand.
_Dada_
The gist of the quatrain is this, that if we do no good to the
world, then----
Then the world will be very greatly relieved.
_Dada_
There is another verse that makes it clearer:
_There are numerous stars in the midnight sky,
Which hang in the air for no purpose;
If they would only come down to earth,
For the street lighting they might be useful. _
I see we must make clearer our meaning. Catch him. Let's raise
him up, shoulder high, and take him back to his den.
_Dada_
Why are you so excited to-day? Have you any particular business
to do?
Yes, we have very urgent business,--very urgent indeed.
_Dada_
What is your business about?
We are out to seek a play for our Spring festival.
_Dada_
Play! Day and night, play!
(_They sing. _)
_We are free, my friends, from the fear of work,
For we know that work is play,--the play of life.
It is Play, to fight and toss, between life and death;
It is Play that flashes in the laughter of light in the infinite
heart;
It roars in the wind, and surges in the sea. _
Oh, here comes our Leader. Brothers--our Leader, our Leader.
_Leader_
Hallo! What a noise you make!
Was it that which made you come out of doors?
_Leader_
Yes.
Well, we did it for that very purpose.
_Leader_
You don't want me to remain indoors?
Why remain indoors? This outer world has been made with a lavish
expenditure of sun and moon and stars. Let us enjoy it, and then
we can save God's face for indulging in such extravagance.
_Leader_
What were you discussing?
This:
(_They sing_. )
_Play blooms in flower and ripens in fruit
In the sunshine of eternal youth.
Play bursts up in the blood-red fire, and licks into ashes the
decaying and the dead. _
Our Dada's objection was about this play.
_Dada_
Shall I tell you the reason why?
Yes, Dada, you may tell us, but we shan't promise to listen.
_Dada_
Here it is:
_Time is the capital of work,
And Play is its defalcation.
Play rifles the house, and then wastes its spoil,
Therefore the wise call it worse than useless. _
_Chandra_
But surely, Dada, you are talking nonsense. Time itself is Play.
Its only object is Pas-time.
_Dada_
Then what is Work?
_Chandra_
Work is the dust raised by the passing of Time.
_Dada_
Leader, you must give us your answers.
_Leader_
No. I never give answers. I lead on from one question to another.
That is my leadership.
_Dada_
Everything else has its limits, but your childishness is
absolutely unbounded.
Do you know the reason? It is because we are really nothing but
children. And everything else has its limitations except the
child.
_Dada_
Won't you ever attain Age?
No, we shall never attain Age.
We shall die old, but never attain Age.
_Chandra_
When we meet Age, we shall shave his head, and put him on a
donkey, and send him across the river.
Oh, you can save yourself the trouble of shaving his head for Age
is bald.
(_They sing_. )
_Our hair shall never turn grey,
Never.
There is no blank in this world for us, no break in our road,
It may be an illusion that we follow,
But it shall never play us false,
Never. _
(_The Leader sings_. )
_Our hair shall never turn grey,
Never.
We will never doubt the world and shut our eyes to ponder.
Never.
We will not grope in the maze of our mind.
We flow with the flood of things, from the mountain to the sea,
We will never be lost in the desert sand,
Never. _
We can tell, by his looks, that Dada will some day go to that Old
Man, to receive his lessons.
_Leader_
Which Old Man?
The Old Man of the line of Adam.
He dwells in a cave, and never thinks of dying.
_Leader_
Where did you learn about him?
Oh, every one talks about him, And it is in the books also.
_Leader_
What does he look like?
Some say he is white, like the skull of a dead man. And some say
he is dark, like the socket of a skeleton's eye.
But haven't you heard any news of him, Leader?
_Leader_
I don't believe in him at all.
Well, that goes entirely against current opinion. That Old Man is
more existent than anything else. He lives within the ribs of
creation.
According to our Pundit, it is we who have no existence. You
can't be certain whether we are, or are not.
_Chandra_
We? Oh, we are too brand new altogether. We haven't yet got our
credentials to prove that we exist.
_Leader_
Have you really gone and opened communication with the Pundits?
Why? What harm is there in that, Leader?
_Leader_
You will become pale, like the white mist in autumn. Even the
least colour of blood will disappear from your mind. I have a
suggestion.
What, Leader? What?
_Leader_
You were looking out for a play?
Yes, yes, we got quite frantic about it.
We thought it over so vigorously, that people had to run to the
King's court to lodge a complaint.
_Leader_
Well, I can suggest a play which will be new.
What? --What? --Tell us.
_Leader_
Go and capture the Old Man.
That is new, no doubt, but we very much doubt if it's a play.
_Leader_
I am sure you won't be able to do it.
Not do it? We shall.
_Leader_
No, never.
Well then, suppose we do capture him, what will you give us?
_Leader_
I shall accept you as my preceptor.
Preceptor! You want to make us grey, and cold, and old, before
our time.
_Leader_
Then, what do you want me to do?
If we capture him, then we shall take away your leadership.
_Leader_
That will be a great relief to me. You have made all my bones out
of joint already. Very well, then it's all settled?
Yes, settled. We shall bring him to you by the next full moon of
Spring.
But what are we going to do with him?
_Leader_
You shall let him join in your Spring Festival.
Oh no, that will be outrageous. Then the mango flowers will run
to seed at once.
And all the cuckoos will become owls.
And the bees will go about reciting Sanskrit verses, making the
air hum with m's and n's.
_Leader_
And your skull will be so top-heavy with prudence, that it will
be difficult for you to keep on your feet.
How awful!
_Leader_
And you will have rheumatics in all your joints.
How awful!
_Leader_
And you will become your own elder brothers, pulling your own
ears to set yourselves right.
How awful!
_Leader_
And----
No more "ands. " We are ready to surrender.
We will abandon our game of capturing the Old Man.
We will put it off till the cold weather. In this Springtime,
your company will be enough for us.
_Leader_
Ah, I see! You have already got the chill of the Old Man in your
bones.
Why? What are the symptoms?
_Leader_
You have no enthusiasm. You back out at the very start. Why
don't you make a trial?
Very well. Agreed. Come on.
Let us go after the Old Man. We will pluck him out, like a grey
hair, wherever we find him.
_Leader_
But the Old Man is an adept in the business of plucking out. His
best weapon is the hoe.
You needn't try to frighten us like that. When we are out for
adventure, we must leave behind all fears, all quatrains, all
Pundits, and all Scriptures.
(_They sing_. )
_We are out on our way
And we fear not the Robber, the Old Man.
Our path is straight, it is broad,
Our burden is light, for our pocket is bare,
Who can rob us of our folly?
For us there is no rest, nor ease, nor praise, nor success,
We dance in the measure of fortune's rise and fall,
We play our game, or win or lose,
And we fear not the Robber. _
ACT II
SONG-PRELUDE
[_Spring's Heralds try to rob Winter of his outfit of age. _]
_Rear stage lighted up, disclosing Old Winter teased by the boys
and girls representing Spring's Heralds. _
SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING
_We seek our playmates,
Waking them up from all corners before it is morning.
We call them in bird songs,
Beckon them in nodding branches.
We spread our spell for them in the splendour of clouds. _
_We laugh at solemn Death
Till he joins in our laughter.
We tear open Time's purse,
Taking back his plunder from him.
You shall lose your heart to us, O Winter.
It will gleam in the trembling leaves
And break into flowers. _
SONG OF WINTER
_Leave me, let me go.
I sail for the bleak North, for the peace of the frozen shore.
Your laughter is untimely, my friends.
You turn my farewell tunes into the welcome song of the Newcomer,
And all things draw me back again into the dancing ring of their
hearts. _
SONG OF THE HERALDS OF SPRING
_Life's spies are we, lurking in ambush everywhere.
We wait to rob you of your last savings of withered hours to scatter
them in the wayward winds.
We shall bind you in flower chains where Spring keeps his captives,
For we know you carry your jewels of youth hidden in your grey rags. _
(_Noon_)
[_The rear stage is darkened. The band of Youths enters on the
main stage. No actual change in the scenery is necessary--this
being left to the imagination of the audience. _]
Ferryman! Ferryman! Open your door.
_Ferryman_
What do you want?
We want the Old Man.
_Ferryman_
Which old man?
Not which old man. We want _the_ Old Man.
_Ferryman_
Who is he?
The true and original Old Man.
_Ferryman_
Oh! I understand. What do you want him for?
For our Spring Festival.
_Ferryman_
For your Spring Festival? Are you become mad?
Not a sudden becoming. We have been like this from the beginning.
And we shall go on like this to the end.
(_They sing. _)
_The Piper pipes in the centre, hidden from sight.
And we become frantic, we dance.
The March wind, seized with frenzy,
Runs and reels, and sways with noisy branches.
The sun and stars are drawn in the whirl of rapture. _
Now, Ferryman, give us news of the Old Man.
You ply your boat from one landing stage to another. Surely you
know where----
_Ferryman_
My business is limited only to the path. But whose path it is,
and what it means, I have no occasion to enquire. For my goal is
the landing-stage, not the house.
Very well. Let us go, let us try all the ways. _(They sing. )_
_The Piper pipes in the centre, hidden from sight.
Ah, the turbulent tune, to whose time the oceans dance,
And dance our heaving hearts.
Fling away all burdens and cares, brother,
Do not be doubtful of your path,
For the path wakes up of itself
Under the dancing steps of freedom. _
_Ferryman_
There comes the Watchman. Ask him. I know about the way; but he
knows about the wayfarers.
_Watchman_
Who are you?
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?
