Our Masters

Jaishankar Prasad’s Kamayani

 

Excerpts from Canto IX: Ida  (Wisdom)

 

‘From which fathomless chasm, stirring

like a stormy surge, rises this tumultuous tempest of life,

gathering terror-stricken atomies of sky, wind, fire, earth

and water, terrifying all, rapt in the worship of terror;

a being doling out bitterness, rendering the world forlorn,

flaunting his might in creation, bestowing ruin anon,

wrestling with all, dispassionate in all, yet passionate;

When was this dismal dart hurled from life’s eternal bow,

to smite what target, breaching the void?

 

I have beheld those mountain tops,

 

aglow in abiding snow, unfettered, grandiose, lofty peaks,

symbols of soulless conceit, sundering the earth’s grace,

rapt in their own reveries; oblivious the rivers flow, garnering

their snowdrops, tranquil eyed, devoid of bliss and woe;

I do not crave of life that tranquillity, that eternal liberty; I only

wish my mind to be unrestrained, like the free-spirited wind, who

touches one and all in the world; at every step, a rippling wave,

like that fiery, fleeting sun!

 

Ablaze in mine own flames,

 

forsaking the sweet abode of life’s investiture; I seek its

unfolding in grove, cavern, bower and arid land. Frenzied that

I am, have I ever been merciful?– Have I not sundered good will?

Whose grace appeals to me ?– Whence forth this ruthless rivalry?

In this wilderness, my lament finds no solace; like the scorching

Loo, I whirl around  – when did I inspire any bloom?

I dwell on effete dreams – biding in a fantastical world,

when did I perceive the flower smile?

 

 

The light of this sorry life,

 

entangled in the boughs of sky’s blue vine, anguished in its own bliss!

The buds I discerned, were but thorns strewn around;

How many wild paths did I tread, and lie jaded to the core?

These lofty peaks taunt me – while I weep in banished disquiet;

Fate’s player performs her dreaded act, her shadows swirl in

the effete void; at every step, my failings leap evermore. On rain-

drenched nights, dispirited, I hasten to ensnarl gathering glow worms,

only to slaughter those flecks of light.

 

 

Darkness of life’s night! 

 

You have unravelled all around in a blue bounty of melted frost;

How many rays of cognizance have been drowned dispassionate?

How heady is this darkness that shrouds the world in its eternal act!

You, incarnate yet invisible, shifting in momentary haze;

faint vermillion veins of passion bloom in you, O crescent moon,

like streaks of saffron tinting a bride’s flowing locks;

O eternal retreat of life, bountiful umbral cloud of desire,

tousled tresses of the queen of illusions!

 

 

Darkness of life’s night,

 

You drift like the fumes of desire’s virgin fire, unrestrained,

from which unquenched longings quiver and lament in embers;

Kissing the horizons, the river of youth’s weald flows on, in which

the mind-child’s play-boats ceaselessly swerve; O the lilting croon

of kajol, lining unabashèd eyes! In you smirks fair deception!

Fashioned in nebulous streaks is the novel art of vibrant murals;

In this darkened, exiled path, rings the strains of life’s lovelorn cuckoo,

rising in blue refrain on the boundless sky!

 

 

This bleak, barren domain,

where ultimate renditions of joy and grief lie in ruined monuments,

whose hideous, gnarled silhouettes dictate man’s chagrined fate;

How many mirthful memories flutter in dispersed desires, despaired!

Buried in these ruins lie depraved yearnings, like wilted leaves;

In forlorn niches, passion still yearns, as though in anguished sobs;

On this withered wood, fancy still burgeons verdant, like a sky-vine;

The flickering lamps burning on the ruins of life’s sepulchre,

steadily snuff themselves out.’

 

In boundless thought, Manu lay fatigued;

 

At peace was he, on forsaking Shraddha’s blessed, blithe abode,

But burdened at every step, he wandered into this desolate domain;

Surging swiftly was Sarasvati, while twilight quietly turned into night;

gazing steadfast were the stars at earth’s dazèd, passive turn;

The Vṛtra-slayer’s laden realm lay derelict and desolate today;

Lord Indra’s triumphant mementoes rendered sorrows twofold,

and Sarasvati’s sacred shores lay withered in nightmarish delusions,

all around was the shroud of darkness.

 

Translator’s Notes

 

Jaishankar Prasad (1890 – 1937) is one of the leading figures of Hindi Literature. A proponent of Chhayavad (Neo-Romanticism), Prasad’s work incorporates romanticism, mysticism and humanism. Prasad’s modern epic Kamayani is one of the greatest works of contemporary Indian Literature. Based on the Vedic flood myth and the patriarchal flood hero, Manu, the epic comprises of 15 Cantos, each representing a human emotion (often personified).

 

This translation of Kamayani comprises of the opening verses (1 to 8) of Canto IX: Ida (Wisdom). These verses highlight Manu’s painful introspection after he leaves Shraddha. Although Manu, Shraddha and Ida are characters from Classical Literature, Prasad juxtaposes myth with symbolism:  Manu symbolises the Mind, Shraddha stands for Faith and Ida represents Intellect. I have interpreted Ida as Wisdom, pertaining to Worldly Wisdom.

 

• In Verse 1, Prasad alludes to the destructive force of the atom or paramānu that strikes terror in the five elements. Published in 1936, this powerful allusion envisions a future weapon of mass destruction, especially in the concluding lines: ‘When was this dismal dart hurled from life’s eternal bow/ to smite what target, breaching the void?’  However, within the verse, the meaning indicates the human tendency of self-sabotage.
  • I have translated paramānu as ‘atomies’ (instead of atom), an old-fashioned term for atomic or minute particles.
• Loo (Verse 3) is a dry and hot summer wind that blows in the Indo-Gangetic plains.
• Vṛtra-slayer (Verse 8) – In Indian myth, Indra (the king of Gods) is praised as the slayer of the danava (demon) Vṛtra. Vṛtra is also considered a dragon or serpent. According to the Ṛg Vēda, Vṛtra imprisoned the waters of the world, which were then released by Indra. Prasad refers to Indra as Vṛtraghni, the slayer of Vṛtra. In the Ṛg Veda and other texts like Kalidasa’s Kumārasambhava, the terms Vṛtrahan or Vṛtraghn appear as epithets of Indra.

 

Usha Kishore is an Indian born British poet, translator and editor.  Her poetry is internationally published in journals and anthologies including Macmillan UK, Hodder UK and Harper Collins India. Her poetry has won prizes in UK and Irish competitions, has been part of international projects and features in the British Primary and Secondary syllabi and Indian Middle School and Undergraduate syllabi. She is the author of 3 poetry collections, the latest being Immigrant (Eyewear Publishing, London, 2018).  She has co-edited a poetry anthology of the British Indian diaspora with Jaydeep Sarangi.  The author of a book of translations from the Sanskrit, entitled Translating the Divine Woman  (Rasala India, 2015), Usha was also the editor of Sanskrit Literature (in translation) of Muse India. www.ushakishore.co.uk