Parabels of Mahavir

Author(s): Harindranath Chattopadhyaya
Publisher: Shri Kiran Publishers

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Nature pulsated while she saw him pass Along the winding road : withdrawn, alone. He seemed to her a many-mirrored glass Catching each image of her, form and tone, Transforming the soft greenness of the grass To greenness as no grass had even known; The blueness of all heaven to such blue As though Divinity sat looking through "We hail thee”, twittered birds upon their boughs “Thou art a Saviour !" whispered winds and trees, While bald grey boulders all along the way Declared: "He holds the power to rouse Such living ecstasy in stone and clay As grow from more to more and comes to stay !" Wide wayside-ricefields chanted: “If you please, A Master with god-splendour on his brows Renders our harvest richer by degrees !"
Soon he arrived and stood before a house Dilapidated, ruin-ravaged, dead: “My oath awaits fulfilment here", he said,
On the dim wall of a half-kindled room He noticed a young shadow move about; The house, it wore the aspect of a tomb, The air around it seemed a strangled shout; A door unbolted, creaked and opened wide, Revealing someone languishing inside, Mahavir thought: “At last, beyond a doubt,