I LIVED ON THE shady side of the road and watched my neighbours' gardens across the way revelling in the sunshine. I felt I was poor, and from door to door went with my hunger. The more they gave me from their careless abundance the more I became aware of my beggar's bowl. Till one morning I awoke from my sleep at the sudden opening of my door, and you came and asked for alms. In despair I broke the lid of my chest open and was startled into finding my own wealth.
FAR BELOW flowed the Jumna, swift and clear, above frowned the jutting bank. Hills dark with the woods and scarred with the torrents were gathered around. Govinda, the great Sikh teacher, sat on the rock reading scriptures, when Raghunath, his disciple, proud of his wealth, came and bowed to him and said, 1 have brought my poor present unworthy of your acceptance.' Thus saying he displayed before the teacher a pair of gold bangles wrought with costly stones. The master took up one of them, twirling it round his finger, and the diamonds darted shafts of light. Suddenly it slipped from his hand and rolled down the bank into the water. 'Alas,' screamed Raghunath and jumped into the stream. The teacher set his eyes upon his book, and the water held and hid what it stole and went its way. The daylight faded when Raghunath came back to the teacher tired and dripping. He panted and said, I can still get it back if you show me where it fell.' The teacher took up the remaining bangle and throwing it into the water said, It is there.'
MY HEART FEELS shy to bring to your vagrant mind the lyric of my secret lest its meaning be missed and its rhythm. I shall wait for some auspicious hour when the evening is compassionate, your eyes drowned in its tender dimness, and my voice reaches you in a profound calm of truth. I shall turn my secret round and round through my whisper at a lonely corner of your heart, even as the cricket among the silent sal trees turns single-toned beads of its chirping in the rosary of night.
