By: Bijay Kant Dubey
Ghanashyam
by Sarojini Naidu
Thou givest to the shadows on the
mountains
The colours of thy glory, Ghanashyam,
Thy laughter to high secret snow-fed fountains,
To forest pines thy healing breath of balm.
Thou lendest to the storm's unbridled tresses
The beauty and the blackness of thy hair,
And scatterest the joy of thy caresses
In lustrous rain upon the limpid air.
Thou dost vouchsafe to pilgrim-hearted ages
The music of thy mercy, Ghanashyam,
And grantest to thy seekers and thy sages
Mystic sanctuaries of transcendent calm.
O take my yearning soul for thine oblation,
Life of all myriad lives that dwell in thee.
Let me be lost, a lamp of adoration,
In thine unfathomed waves of ecstasy.
Ghanashyam,
Ghanashyam, how the music of the word, Ghanashyam, how the literal meaning? Who
is Ghanashyam? The same Krishna Murari, Muraliwalla, Manamohan. But here Ghanashyam, one who is deep blue coloured, one
who is dark coloured as the hanging clouds seem to be laden with showers
lurking over the hills, looking darker blue, bluish darkness. And here lies in
the mysticism, the mysticism of the word. Can one somewhat dark but with a
nicer face-cutting be not called beautiful? The answer is, of course, without
any doubt. Is dark not beautiful? Generally in musical notes with the ragaas
the word, Ghanashyam, my Ghanashyam spreads the melody and music of its own and
this is often done in classical music. He went on playing the music, the murali
and I went on hearing the melody so breathtaking, awe-striking is it, if one
can feel about, as such is the impact cast or exerted upon. Where is Krishna?
The Krishna of heart? How to search him? Where the blue-coloured idol? Where
the blue-complexioned boy of Brindavan? How this trend of bhakti? Indian
classical tradition of devotees, singers and fakirs lost in Krishnadhun, the rhythm
and recitation of Ghanashyam? The heart is submerged in bhakti, Krishna-bhakti,
the music of Shyam and it taking away the heart with him. As the halo of the
blue lotus is, the azure of the skies, the colour of the hills in the sunshine
or during the cloud around, changing into a gloom so is his colour and
complexion. When lightning flashes or the thunderbolt crashes, the heart beats
it with fear, taking the name of Shyam, Ganashyam just like the birds afraid of
and screaming in fear.
Here
the blue image is so prominent and the yearning merges with the Divine through
the music and devotion of heart, through spiritual thirst and longing. Ghanashyam,
how to see the image of his? How the painting of his? How the blue-complexion?
How the blue colour alluring to all? Without being a devotee, how to be lost
in? In Krishna-rasa, Krishna-prema? The blue colour and complexion of his
matches with the clouds hanging over the hills and the mountain ranges, in the
loom seen far as the outbursts of lurking clouds combined with thunder and
lightning, seen in the blue waters of the lake or in the blue lilies
fascinating it all. First, love him then feel you the magic of the Love Divine.
The
poetess means to say it whose colour is it reflected in the mountains and the
gloom around it, whose is it sunniness during the daytime reflecting as strangely,
radiating blue, so attractive and charming to core. It is but his colour
reflecting over, reflecting in and he is just like that, like that. The
snow-fed so high secret fountains from which the crystal and blue waters flow
form, drip as the pearls do not misunderstand them as carry forth the laughter
of the same. It is none but he who heals with a breath of balm the forest
pines. The storms which take us by surprise and awe carry out the beauty and
blackness of his hair. But that gloom and storm result in a downpour dispelling
and discarding the thaw in the air.
It
has been continuing for long, for ages and ages and it will go by as long as
the creation is, drenched in your bhakti, is the thing. There will be no life
without his Krishnalila, Krishnalila Divine.
Where is not Krishna? At the root of all. This romantico-devotional heart is
his; this classico-devotional heart is his, is what we know it not the truth. Just
we need to be lost in Krishna-consciousness, Krishna-ananda. Wherever go you,
goes it the heart with you, with Krishna, my Ghanashyam. One who is present it
in all, how the world to go without his mercy divine?
He
is in everything that we do and dream. The ages with time-spirits are the
makings of his. There is nothing as hidden from. He is the Lord-god whose
blessing is reflected in it all. What can be greater than the soul drenched in
Krishna-bhakti? Who is it who gives transcendent calm? It is but he, the power
behind our grace and blessing. The poetess prays to him for his grace, blessing
and love. When we read the poem Ghanashyam, the picture of Radha who is bluish
also dances before the eyes. If there is none, he is but Ghanashyam, if the
heart submerged in him, the soul lost in him, why to fear? The world is the
leela ground of his and he playing the flute from the orchards, hills, bowers
and arbours, hills, dales, vales and mountains, woodlands, forest tracts and
rocky domains. Such is the melody of his flute; such is the lyricism of love-song;
such is the power of love. He is Shyam, Ghanashyam, the Blue Boy of Brindavan.
Where do you lie, fluting, my Lord? Where do you? Where is the melody coming
from? The heart stays it not put in. Such is Krishnabhakti. The ecstasy of deep
devotion is fathomless and immeasureable.
Ghanashyam
is a poem of Krishnabhakti and Krishnaprem, dealing with classical love poetry
and bhakti-tradition continuing to since long, so full of folkloric music,
dance and song incantations, taking us to Krishnalila and Raaslila, to
Brindavan and Mathura, the banks of the Yamuna river and the kadamba trees with
the gopis moving about in search of and Krishna playing the flute.
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