The human mind
on one hand
is only saying:
'I want, I want, I want';
likewise,
on the other hand -
just behind the first utterance -
it is voicing
another thought -
'I don't want, I don't want, I don't want.'
Right now
it1 says,
'I cannot go without it';
immediately after
it says
'I don't need it'.
People from the dispersed fair
were saying yesterday night:
'If we can only get
some firewood
and
some dry leaves -
that would save us!'
Then it so seemed
as if
without
those materials,
there would be no future.
In Winter,
under the open sky
on the field,
it was building that little bit of protection
that seemed to serve
the most important necessity
in the World.
Somehow building a stove2,
somehow burning dry leaves,
somehow cooking whatever was at hand -
and eating the resulting food -
the efforts to do these
became very urgent
as well.
To these desires
and these efforts -
all other affairs of the World became smaller.
In some way
this firewood
and dry leaves and twigs
were collected.
But, today
even as the night
was not completely finished,
I could hear:
'Hey, where is the cart?
Hey, bring the bullocks!'
We need to go,
now we need to go back to the village.
This need
to go back
is, verily, now
bigger than
anything else.
The immediate needs
of yesterday night
today
remained cast-away
as mere garbage;
the things
people called 'very necessary' yesterday -
today,
the same people
are so busy
getting rid of them
and moving on.
The Universal Human Being, too,
just like this,
Is Arranging to move on
from one eon
into another eon.
When the new morn is rising,
when the night is about to turn into dawn -
then
one person
is pushing another,
calling him/her:
'Hey, let's go!
Hey, where is the cow!
Hey, where is the cart!'
Then
those materials -
materials that were so very necessary
at night,
in this daylight
were thrown away
with - as it were - utter shame
and
as
very unnecessary
garbage.
From dry leaves,
smoke is still rising;
their ashes are piling up.
Broken pots,
pans,
Sal leaves -
the whole field
is littered with them.
The rest houses -
left behind by the resters,
have assumed
a very shabby and shameful look.
Everything remained -
the Eastern Sky has turned red,
now everyone needs to get going.
Again,
again
it is the time
to collect
the necessities
of
yet another eon.
Then they will think,
these needs
of now
are ultimate;
never again,
not on any other day
at dawn
these bullocks shall need to be
joined to
the cart.
Saying so,
again -
it is possible
to
get oneself busy
with
collecting
firewood
and
dry twigs.
But,
then also
this extremely immediate need -
from its far frontal horizon
words are coming
in sorrowful Bhairavii3 tune:
'There is no need, there is no need.'
If this small tune
were not present,
if within this extreme necessity
extreme lack of necessity didn't reside,
then
could we have survived?
If the needs
were truly immediate,
then their tremendous pressure -
who would have been able to withstand?
The days and nights
that are extremely unnecessary -
they have stolen
the weight of this
extreme need,
and that is exactly why
we are able to move about
even within the
extremely strong gravity
that is of necessity.
It is precisely because of this
that
the moment
dawn's light
shows itself to us,
we are able to
cast away
heaps of trash
here and there,
in whatever fashion -
and then we are able to
hop onto the cart
and sit there.
Saying 'Nothing remains' -
we are heaving deep sighs,
and
likewise,
saying 'Nothing moves' -
we are not getting despondent.
Things are verily staying
and
things are verily going,
in the middle of
these two
we have gained a hiatus -
we have gained a shelter;
our rooms have been arranged for us,
and
our light and air, too,
have not been taken away.
8 Paush 1315
(December 22, 1908)
Bengali original: http://www.tagoreweb.in/Render/ShowContent.aspx?ct=Essays&bi=72EE92F5-BE50-4057-6E6E-0F7410664DA3&ti=72EE92F5-BE50-4567-FE6E-0F7410664DA3&ch=1