I.56. sukh sindh ki sair ka THE SAVOUR of wandering in the ocean of deathless life has rid me of all my asking: As the tree is in the seed, so all diseases are in this asking.
THE KINGFISHER sits still on the prow of an empty boat, while in the shallow margin of the stream a buffalo lies tranquilly blissful, its eyes half closed to savour the luxury of cool mud. Undismayed by the barking of the village cur, the cow browses on the bank, followed by a hopping group of saliks hunting moths. I sit in the tamarind grove, where the cries of dumb life congregate-the cattle's lowing, the sparrows' chatter, the shrill scream of a kite overhead, the crickets' chirp, and the splash of a fish in the water. I peep into the primeval nursery of life, where the mother Earth thrills at the first living clutch near her breast.
