IT IS WRITTEN in the book, that Man, when fifty, must leave the noisy world, to go to the forest seclusion. But the poet proclaims that only for the young is the forest hermitage. For it is the birth-place of flowers, and the haunt of birds and bees; and hidden nooks are waiting there for the thrill of lover's whispers. There the moonlight, that is all one kiss for the malati flowers, has its deep message, but those who understand it are far below fifty. And alas, youth is inexperienced and wilful, therefore it is but meet, that the old should take charge of the household, and the young take to the seclusion of forest shades, and the severe discipline of courting.
NOT FOR ME is the love that knows no restraint, but like the foaming wine that having burst its vessel in a moment would run to waste. Send me the love which is cool and pure like your rain that blesses the thirsty earth and fills the homely earthen jars. Send me the love that would soak down into the centre of being, and from there would spread like the unseen sap through the branching tree of life, giving birth to fruits and flowers. Send me the love that keeps the heart still with the fulness of peace.
