By
KUNTHALI
It was
past twilight. Birds and beasts had resorted to their homes, and Silence, with
his herald, Darkness, had entered the forest. All signs of activity had ceased.
But the little brook went on murmuring her love chants to the image in the
deserted temple by which she flowed. Her ripple seemed to mock the world for
its gloom and quiet when faced with night. The whole world had gone to rest,
and death-like silence and inactivity reigned, but the brook flowed on,
proclaiming to a deaf world the value of life.
“Live,
live, live,–”, she seemed to chant. “You men, why do you long for death so as
to escape from this life? Live! Live, to escape from death–from the death of
the fire in your soul which can enkindle love among mankind, from the death of
the power in your arms which can free the poor from the clutches of need and
lead the blind from the labyrinth of
Ignorance into the vale of Knowledge.
“Life is
the one thing that matters–it is everything. The wise, the foolish,
the weak–everyone of them has to face death. But only the courageous at heart
can face Life and live–live, not with the breath of the body, but with the very
breath of the soul. Only the brave man’s heart-strings can twang in unison with
the music that is the Call of Life. Even when racked with pain he does not
welcome death, for to him pain is something which can be actively fought
against, for then he is really alive. The value of a thing is rarely realised
until it is about to be lost, so that the intensity of pain is but an emblem of
the intensity of the value of Life.
“So do not
flee from the Call of Life. Love Life and live, live, live…”