LXXV. THE HOUR OF DEATH

When my mind is failing, then the name of Kālī whisper in my ears, as I lie on my bed of sand. This body is not mine, the passions sweep it along. O Forgetful One,[232] bring my rosary when I float in Ganges.

Rāmkṛishṇa, fearful, says to the Forgetful One: Thou art careless for my welfare, careless as to my fate.[233]

This song is quoted in Dr. Dinesh Sen's History (p. 721), but we found it first elsewhere.

One of the countless poems entreating aid at the time of death. The poet imagines that he has been placed in the Ganges to die; and he asks for his rosary of rudrāksha berries.

FOOTNOTES:

[232] Bhōlā (Śiva). But the poem will also admit of the explanation that the poet is reproaching his own forgetful mind, and not Śiva.

[233] Literally, what is on my forehead. See note to XXIII.

 

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RASIKCHANDRA RĀY

LXXVI. THE WORSHIPPER WILL CONQUER KĀLĪ BY HER OWN STRENGTH

Come, Mother, join battle with me as I worship. Let us see, Mother, who will be conquered, the Mother or the son. I mount the mighty chariot of virtue; worship and adoration, these two steeds are harnessed to it. I have stretched the bow of knowledge; and here I sit, the arrow of devotion ready in my hand. Today the battle shall decide the issue. What fear have I of death? With beating of drums, I will seize the wealth of salvation. In battle after battle you have overthrown the Daityas.[234] This time, O Goddess, come and fight with me.

Rasikchandra your votary says: It is in your strength, Mother, that I shall conquer you in battle.

FOOTNOTES:

[234] Titans. Often rendered demons, though they were not wicked except in the sense that they warred against the gods.

 

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SĀIYĀD JĀFĀR

LXXVII. KĀLĪ CANNOT HELP HER WORSHIPPER

Why do you in such a plight call yourself merciful? (This is the Mother, the merciful, and in such a plight!) What wealth can you give me? You yourself have not even clothes. Would a woman choose nakedness if she had aught with which to clothe herself? Your husband is a beggar from his birth, your father is most cruel. There is not in the family of either any to be a benefactor. For Sāiyād Jāfār what wealth is there in your keeping? Hara's breast possesses your twin Feet.

The only interest of this song of somewhat ambiguous devotion is that its author is a Musalman. It is well known that Musalman thought has influenced Hinduism; but it is not so well-known that Hinduism, in Bengal, at any rate, has influenced Muhammadanism. Musalmans sing Śākta and Vaishṇava songs almost as freely as Hindus do; and Vaishṇava songs by Musalmans will be found in the companion volume to this one.

 

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NĪLAKAṆṬHA MUKHOPĀDHYĀYA

LXXVIII. KĀLĪ IS THE UNIVERSAL OBJECT OF WORSHIP

Art thou Mother or Father to me, my Mother?

I have searched the Vedas and the Vedānta, the Tantras and the Mantras, yet nowhere have I found thy fulness.

As Rāma thou dost take the bow, as Śyāma[235] the flute: as Śyāmā the black, thou dost seize the sword.

Some offer at thy feet the tulasī;[236] some the atasī;[237] some come with handfuls of hibiscus, some bring the leaves of bel.

O Mother, Mother of the Universe, art thou male or female? Who can say? Who knows thy form?

In whatever form men think of thee, in that form do thou, Universal One, appear to them.

Nīlakaṇṭha's mind ever thinks of thee as chief amongst the deities.[238] Mother, if thou wouldst be Mother indeed, then why at my Mother's feet should my Father lie prostrate?[239]

FOOTNOTES:

[235] Kṛishṇa is called Śyāma, 'the dark one.' Śyāmā, a name of Durgā, is the feminine form of the word. It will be remembered that, when Durgā is first mentioned in Hindu literature, she is Kṛishṇa's sister (see Introduction, p. 11).

[236] Sacred basil, dedicated to Vishṇu. Almost every Hindu household and all Vaishṇava temples cultivate a plant. The poet is glorifying his goddess as the Supreme Principle, worshipped by others under the names of Rāma, Kṛishṇa and Śiva.

[237] The linseed plant; its flowers are offered to Durgā.

[238] Literally, as chief of Creators.

[239] Her station on Śiva's body is taken by the poet as symbolizing her lack of affection and compassion.

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