All The World’s A Stage. Shakespeare Song. Appreciation by P.S.Remesh Chandran.

 

31.

All The World’s A Stage. Shakespeare Song. Appreciation by P.S.Remesh Chandran.

Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.

 

By PSRemeshChandra, 12th Jul 2011.  Short URL http://nut.bz/.ajc3xow/
Posted in Wikinut Poetry

 

Human beings are born far earlier than when they are ripe to be delivered. If they are retained inside mother body till sufficient growth, the child cannot come out due to large head size. So it has been arranged that they come out early when the head is comparatively small, and remain an invalid infant in the outside world for a very long time, compared to the relatively short infancy of other mammals. That is the price human beings pay for their higher intelligence among the mammalian world.

Life progresses in a circle in which the feelings and passions attached to a particular moment will have to be gone through again.

William Shakespeare was one of the great English poets and dramatists of the Sixteenth Century. All The World Is A Stage is a song from his play As You Like It, which in the play is sung by the melancholy philosopher Jacques. Whether life progresses in a straight line or in a circle is a question still remaining unanswered satisfactorily by philosophers. A point in a straight line will never be repeated, and the feelings and passions attached to that particular moment can never be enjoyed anymore. But a circle is the only figure where every point flies straight forward along its tangent and at the same ends where it starts. If life progresses in a circle, the feelings and passions attached to a particular age certainly can be gone through and experienced again in life after a time as illustrated in this song, the old age being an exact replica of the infancy. But it has to be agreed that Jacques’ description of the various stages of man’s life is rather cynical.

Suppose a man and a monkey are born on the same day: The monkey attains maturity far earlier.

Shakespeare Memorial Theatre. Stratford Upon Avon.

Man’s history on earth seems to be pitiful and comic. He has seven distinct stages in his life in this world which appears as characters one after the other in a play. Infant, school boy, lover, soldier, magistrate, old man and the dying man-all these parts are played by us one after another on the stage that is this world, unless untimely called back to the place where we came from. Mankind has the longest infancy in the animal world. Suppose a monkey and a man is born on the same day. When it is one year old, the monkey would be performing many wonderful tricks and impossible feats in the trees, but the human child would still be lying there invalid, vulnerable and unable to do things by itself.

The most beautiful thing in this world is the morning face of a child going to school.

Shakespeare’s Statue in London.

This long period of helpless infancy is a preparation for the future mighty acts that are to be performed by man. Shakespeare spells this philosophy strongly in the song. A newborn baby kicks and cries in his nurses’ arms. The whining school boy with his heavy set of books and a shining morning face creeps like an unwilling snail to his grammar school. Yes, times have not changed much. The scenes are the same even today. The most beautiful thing in this world to look at is still the morning face of a child going to school, and when he returns in the evening from school, he still looks like returning from the battle field after a fight.

The universal picture of lost lover, heaving sighs like a hot furnace.

Shakespeare’s Family Circle. A German Engraving.

The third stage is that of the lover who has loved and lost who sighs like a hot furnace and sings sad songs about his lost love. Such sentimentality and unripeness shall be forgiven, as it also is a natural stage in the normal evolvement of the human psyche and physique. Then the stage of the lover strongly and silently evolves into that of the soldier, when sentimentality withdraws and strength appears in its place. In this stage, which is unusually colourful and lively, he seeks chivalry and glory and is even ready to get into and explode himself inside the cannon’s mouth to gain a bubble reputation, though momentary.

A person standing outside this world, watching us, would be amazed at the naturalness of our acting

King John acted at Drury Lane Theatre.

Now come the rest three successive stages of the middle aged man, the old man and the dying man, which also we act such extremely well on the stage that if someone stands outside this world and watches us, he would be amazed at how naturally we act. The fifth is a transition period in which man is equipped with the energy of the young and the experience of the old. How fortunate and prime a time and state to form oneself a statesman! In this middle age he is exceptionally able to distinguish between the right and the wrong and behaves like a magistrate, the man of justice. Then he becomes old, his body becomes weak, and he begins to wear light slippers in place of heavy boots. He wears spectacles and his cheeks are baggy. His trousers are now loose, and they become a vast playground to his thin legs. We may like the old men if at least their sounds are sweet and their words are meaningful, but alas, he has now lost several of his teeth and his words have lost their sweetness and meaning. In the seventh and the last stage, which ends this strange history of man’s life on the world’s stage, he looses all his teeth, loses sight and taste and everything else and becomes again a child to close the circle. And perhaps after death he may go beyond this world and reside in other realms of this limitless universe, or born again in this world itself to repeat everything.

 

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons.
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Dear Reader,

You are invited to kindly visit the Author’s Web Site of P.S.Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum at:

https://sites.google.com/site/timeuponmywindowsill/wiki-nut-articles

Translations of this article in French, German, Spanish and Italian published in Knol.com can be read by clicking here.

http://knol.google.com/k/psremesh-chandran/-/2vin4sjqlcnot/0#collections

 

Tags

All The Worlds A Stage, Ancient Dramas, Appreciations, Articles, As You Like It, British Authors, British Writers, English Literature, Essays, P S Remesh Chandran, Playwrights, Poetical Dramas, Poets, Reintroductions, Reviews, Sahyadri Books Bloom Books Trivandrum, William Shakespeare

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PSRemeshChandra
Editor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan : The Intelligent Picture Book.

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010. Leave This Chanting. Rabindranath Tagore Poem. Appreciation by P S Remesh Chandran

010. Leave This Chanting. Rabindranath Tagore Poem. Appreciation by P S Remesh Chandran

Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum

 

By PSRemeshChandra, 22nd Mar 2011  Short URL http://nut.bz/1zdohpx2/
Posted in Wikinut  Poetry, Drama & Criticism

 

God was the most beautiful creation of mankind, created in man’s exact likeness, one playful, lovely and comely. So why not love him ardently and affectionately and respect him beyond everything as the creator who decided to stay? Tagore’s poem Leave This Chanting has universal appeal, the appreciation of which is presented here by P.S.Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum.

A house in Bengal where Veena, Thabala and Mridangam resounded day and night.

A Tagore Portrait. By Anonymous Photographer.

Rabindranath Tagore was an educationalist, poet and social reformer of India. He wrote hundreds of poems, plays, novels and short stories in English which enjoy universal appeal and esteem. He was a noted painter also. In a house where Thabala, Veena and Mridangam resounded day and night, it is no wonder music and rhythm found their way into his heart. Only the immovable in Tagore House did not sing, dance or write. Santhinikethan was a model educational institution founded by him where all Fine Arts faculties enjoyed privileges. Educated in England and in India, he himself was an educational visionary of exceptional dreams. His multitude of poems and songs written in the Bengali language brought renaissance to Bengal. He himself tuned his songs and never translated these songs to English, a very unfortunate affair.

A poem that exposed the pseudo-zeal of worshippers everywhere.

Einstein and Tagore in Berlin 1930. By Unknown Photographer.

Politics also seemed to fit him well. Along with Mahathma Gandhi, he served as a leading light and source of inspiration for the Independence Movement of India. His famous poetical collection Geethanjali was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913. His poem Where The Mind Is Without Fear is world famous in which he mixed fact and fancy, reality and dream and politics and poetry. Without telling it directly and plainly, he skillfully portrayed in this poem the position into which British Rule pushed India with a heritage far longer than the British. This poem Leave This Chanting is equally important in World Literature due to his exposing the pseudo-zeal of worshippers everywhere. Just as ‘Where The Mind Is Without Fear’ contains his vision of a Free India, ‘Leave This Chanting’ contains his vision of Uncontaminated Worship.

God has gone out to Tillers, Stone-Breakers and Path Makers to stay with them.

Gandhi and Tagore 1940. By Unknown Photographer 

Leave This Chanting is an advice to worshippers everywhere to seek God outside temples, among the labourers. The worshippers sing Manthras and count their Rudraksha Beads inside the shut, dark, lone corners of their temples, but when they open their eyes their God is nowhere to be seen in the temples. They are blind to think that God would be pleased to stay inside shut temples. How can God rest in such suffocating places? Tagore was not new to sights of Jungle Shrines in Bengal where anyone could light a lamp and pray to the deity. When at night a desperate human being seeks solace in the door steps of a temple or church, they are closed and locked preventing entry to him. So God has gone out to stay with the tillers, stone-breakers and path makers who do the heaviest and the dirtiest of works, opting to stay with them in the heavy heat of the Sun and the chilling cold of the down pouring Rain, without minding his clothes being covered with dust. Those who seek God should put off their holy mantles, wear workers’ uniform and come down to the dusty soil to be steeped in their own sweat and tears.

Release is after as many births and deaths as there are leaves in the huge Banyan Tree.

Close family of Tagore. By Unknown Photographer.

Where and when will blind deity worshippers ever listen to good advice? They answer that they are after Deliverance, i.e. Mukthi or Moksha, which means release from the clutches of life. There is a story of a saint travelling to see God. On his way he came across a group of meditating saints who asked him to enquire with God when they would each be given their final release. He came back with the good news that the first saint would be given release after his second birth. This saint started wailing about the misfortune of the tediousness and boredom of passing through yet another life. His wailing was to last till the end of his second life, so is told. Reply to the second saint was that he had to pass through as many births and deaths before his Release as there were leaves on the huge Banyan Tree standing above him. The instant he heard this good news he began to shout and laugh out of beaming happiness that it had been made sure he would be given Deliverance some day, though in a far distant future, perhaps Aeons after. The amused and kindly God could not help himself from appearing there and offering this contended saint Deliverance then and there.

He will not leave any day: He has come to stay with the world.

Tagore born brought up and passed away here. By Mark Kobayashi-Hillary.

Deliverance is for those who love this world and the life here. Mukthi or Release is not the leaving of this world; it is not detachment but divine attachment. God created this world and decided to stay with this world forever. How beautiful, ardent, tender and comely such a God would be! Mankind would feel he is one among them. He has joyfully taken upon him the responsibility of preserving and caring for his creations. Even God does not seek Moksha. He has come to stay with us till the end of the days, and he likes being bonded to this world. Many of his worshippers are living in a virtual world of incense, meditation and flowers which displeases him much. He wishes them to come out of this world of illusion, to stand by him in Sun and Shower. There is no harm in their robes becoming tattered and stained like God’s because they are nearing their God anyway. Those who seek God should be prepared to meet him and stand by him in toil and in the sweat of their brow.

Note 

Jungle shrines are common in almost all states of India where anyone can light a lamp at any time of the day or night. In Kerala in the Trivandrum-Scencottah route, turning right at Vencollah we will reach the Saasthaam Nada Marsh where there is one such shrine. It is situated in the middle of dense forests but close to inner-going forest road and is devoted to Saastha or Ayyappan, the son and manifestation of Lord Vishnu, himself a forest and mountain dweller headquartered in Sabarimala. Lorries will stop there on their way to take in bamboo and reed loads, to pray for their safety during the precarious hill tract climbs and descends. They will dumb many oil bottles, cloth, incense sticks and match boxes nearby under rocks to protect them from rain and flash floods, so that the materials are available to anyone handy and free any time. I myself was a frequenter of this jungle spot inhabited by aborigines and have liberally made use of these materials. After bathing in the fresh and cold stream and reposing for a while lying on the shaded rocks or foliages I would light a lamp. Once we light the lamp in this cool sequestered wilderness, we will feel the sublimity and pleasure of God embracing us from our back. This spot had the stone statue of a baby elephant. One day a lone real elephant, one among a herd who usually passed that way, gave the baby elephant a blow with its trumpet and broke the statute’s trumpet. It did not like the way the baby stone elephant’s trumpet looked.

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
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Tags

English Songs, Indian Poets, Leave This Chanting, Literature And Language, P S Remesh Chandran, Poetry, Poets, Rabindranath Tagore, Sahyadri Books And Bloom Books Trivandrum

Comments

Rathnashikamani
17th Apr 2011 (#)

I love reading into the musings of Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali.

There is always an unknown and revealing space in the inner sanctum of a poet with such a meditative composition of a divine song.

rama devi nina
29th Apr 2011 (#)

Ah yes, Gitanjali is one of my favorites by Tagore. You may have heard of Parameshwaraji, a famous person in Kerala. I used to visit his and share long discussions when he was admitted as a patient in Amma’s hospital in Cochin(where I do seva). He read my poems and then gifted me with Gitanjali. My favorite quote from tagore (may not be exact–from memory)

“I slept and dreamt that life is joy.
I awoke and saw that it was service;
I acted, and behold! service was joy.”

PSRemeshChandra
19th May 2011 (#)

Tagore did not translate many of his beautiful Bengali Songs into English. His Udbodhan was translated into English by Mr. Rabindranath Chowdhury which has now been recast in the true poetic form, making it an exquisite piece of poetry that can be sung tunefully. The link to this recast poem is http://sahyadribooks-remesh.blogspot.com/2010/09/awakening-poem-from-bengal-recast-by.html

Dear Reader,

If you cannot find all the articles of P S Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum, access them via this link provided here: https://sites.google.com/site/timeuponmywindowsill/wiki-nut-articles
Also Visit Sahyadri Books Online Trivandrum in Blogger and author’s Bloom Books Channel in You Tube.
Author’s Google Plus Page: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+PSRemeshChandran/posts

Bloom Books Channel has a video of this poem.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHnjSnH1qa8

Meet the author

PSRemeshChandra
Author profileEditor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan: The Intelligent Picture Book. Born and brought up in the beautiful village of Nanniyode in Trivandrum District in the Sahya Mountain Valley in Kerala. Unmarried and single. Edits Bloom Books Channel, world’s foremost producers of musical English Recitation Videos.

008. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. Appreciation by P S Remesh Chandran

008. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening. Robert Frost. Appreciation by P S Remesh Chandran

Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books,

Trivandrum

 

By PSRemeshChandra, 19th Mar 2011  Short URL http://nut.bz/eslzz8m7/
Posted in Wikinut> Poetry, Drama & Criticism

 

Nature creates many beauties for man to observe, but man being burdened with the multitude of tasks to run a family cannot spare his time for sharing the pleasantness nature imbues. In his rush of life he is forced to abandon the easy solaces nature offers which if accepted, would have served as a balm for his mind in flames. Robert Frost’s poem Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening shows a glimpse of what treasures man has lost. True, what man forgets first is the beauty of his mother.

A British poet trained on practical American lines.

Matthew Arnold: The Critic and Poet. By G W E Russell.

Robert Frost was a farmer and poet who had a deep concern for nature. He lived during 1874-1963. Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening is his world famous poem which appeals to man’s desire to be always be with nature. In the poem we see the poet riding a little horse into a snow falling forest in the evening. His sense of beauty tends him to stay but his dominating sense of duty sends him away. The genius of Frost shuttles between dream and reality and finally lands on immediate reality. Perhaps his long American life might have trimmed him on practical lines.

Nature’s Cynosures are for all the world to see.

Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know. By Ruhrfisch.

The poet stops by the wood on a snowy evening in winter. He doesn’t know who the owner of the forest is. Judging from the fact that there were no signs of any modern constructions to be seen there, he assumes that the owner of the forest might not be a town’s man, but a villager. So far so good. He hopes that the owner will not appear there at that time of heavy snow fall, as he does not wish to be seen tress-passing into private land. Sweet English reserve and shyness! Even though somewhat reluctant to enter a private property, his soul’s desire to be with nature tempted him and he entered the forest riding his horse.

All a winter’s work for the squirrels and sparrows to see.

All A Winters Work. By Böhringer Friedrich.

Nature’s benedictions are man’s common asset, limited to no one’s ownership. She creates her cynosures for all the world to see, through generations and ages. She creates them not exclusively for humans, but anticipating the admiring eyes of the squirrels, sparrows, peacocks and the marsupials also.

Animal instincts are sharper-tuned to sensing danger than man’s.

To Watch The Woods Fill Up With Snow. By Adrian Michael.

Snow heavily falling on the trees and rocks and shrubs will form curious images of strange shapes and sizes. The poet plunges deep into observing their beauty and quite forgets the passing of Time. The horse was more danger-conscious and responsive to surroundings than the poet. Have anyone ever heard about an animal that took its own life? It became suspicious. What is this fellow on my back doing?

Between the woods and frozen lake.

Between The Woods And Frozen Lake. By Harke, Stuttgart.

Dangers of an ink-black night are ahead. No farm houses are to be seen anywhere nearby. They are standing between an unfriendly wood and a frozen lake where no one will get shelter and can survive. Man and animal can be lost and frozen in these circumstances. Besides, it is the darkest night of the year that is approaching. Is this man on my back having ideas of suicide? Animal instincts are sharper-tuned to sense danger than man’s. So thinking such and such, the horse gave his harness bells a shake to ask his master whether there was any mistake. Actually he was asking his master why they were stopping and staying in that unfavorable atmosphere for long.

The Tiny Little Boy with Hay-ho, the Wind and the Rain.

Forage is scarce in winter, so a long neck. By Unknown.

The sounds of the horse-bells were heard distinctly against the only other background sound there, the swish-swishing sound of the easily-flowing wind sweeping against the incessantly down-falling snow. The exquisiteness of the description here reminds the readers of another master craftsman. In The Twelfth Night by William Shakespeare, there is a little song sung by the clown: ‘When that I was a tiny little boy, With hay- ho, the wind and the rain.’ Everyone knows the wind and the rain, but who is this Mr. Hay-Ho? Critics have long debated who this Hay Ho is. It is very simple. Every little child knows Hay Ho; it is the combined effect of sound caused by wind on the rain personified. When wind blows against a green paddy field and the long lines of grass bow their heads in row after row, Hay Ho is present there. When we walk along a tar road while the rain comes down in torrents and the wind sweeps heavily against the rain, then again we can see Hay Ho on the road, coming towards us and going away from us. Hay Ho is indeed something to a tiny little boy and also for the poets. One is always the other. An exactly similar beauty with words is created here by Frost, in describing in vivid and suggestive words the swish-swishing of the wind and the rain in the snow-filled forest.

One single line written across the face of Time: How far to go before rest?

Miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go…..By Jim Champion.

The timely sound of his horse-bells roused the master to reality and reminded him of his immediate duties. Thus rightly inspired, the poet continues on his journey, singing those famous lines which made this song immortal.

‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.’

An admirer of Robert Frost from across the oceans.

The woods are lovely, But I have promises to keep. By John Davies.

The sleep referred to here is the final sleep. These are lines written across Time, to inspire the world through ages. It is not certain whoever were inspired, excited and intoxicated with these lines. But it is known, the famous author of books such as Glimpses Of World History and The Discovery Of India and the first Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru, wrote them down on his walls to be seen always.

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Pictures Courtesy: Wikimedia Commons
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Tags

Appreciation, English Songs, Literature And Language, P S Remesh Chandran, Poetry, Poets, Reviews, Robert Frost, Sahyadri Books And Bloom Books Trivandrum, Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Dear Reader,

If you cannot find all the articles of P S Remesh Chandran, Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum, access them via this link provided here: https://sites.google.com/site/timeuponmywindowsill/wiki-nut-articles
Also Visit Sahyadri Books Online Trivandrum in Blogger and author’s Bloom Books Channel in You Tube.
Author’s Google Plus Page: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+PSRemeshChandran/posts

Bloom Books Channel has a video of this poem.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGCceMlyqdA

Meet the author

PSRemeshChandra
Author profileEditor of Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books, Trivandrum. Author of several books in English and in Malayalam. And also author of Swan: The Intelligent Picture Book. Born and brought up in the beautiful village of Nanniyode in Trivandrum District in the Sahya Mountain Valley in Kerala. Unmarried and single. Edits Bloom Books Channel, world’s foremost producers of musical English Recitation Videos.

 

 

  

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