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The Instant hath arrived for me-and now I shall fulfil my most impossible Vow ! My days of fast are done". Mahavir said: Each detail stood before him There he was The Masterpiece to meet a Holy Cause: A princess more than beautiful; her head Clean-shaven; fetters round her hands and feet, A slave-girl who had had no food to eat For three entire sobbing nights and days* Where is the end to the Lord's dark
inscrutable ways ?' Black lentil-grain spread on a winnowing fan; She seemed true nember of some angel-clan Who had awaited him for years and years; One foot across the threshold, and another Inside the room that gloom was out to smother! A room ? a lonely cell of lurking fears ! Mahavir said : "Come hither, little Mother ! Deal me a dole of lentils on these palms That have been waiting to receive an alms Only your hands can grant me.." Streams of tears Flowed from her eyes while she, before him, stood, Stirred at the being's core; and had begun To look on every man as on a son. The fetters round her hands and feet began To slip and fall and crumble. Heaven ran Towards her with high ecstasy untold And, suddenly, wild chants of angels showered The air with notes dropping like liquid gold Out of their radiant throats: all godhood flowered From end to of sky !
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