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<b>ROBERT GRAVES </b>
</p>
<p class="paracenter"></p>
<p class="para"> 
Robert Graves is not a major poet, and certainly not a great poet. He is a minor 
poet. But in spite of his minor rank he is a good poet: here he presents us a 
jewel, a beautiful poem both in form and substance. He has indeed succeeded, as 
we shall see, in removing the veil, the mystic golden lid, partially at least 
and revealed to our mortal vision a glimpse of light and beauty and truth, made 
them delightfully sink into and seep through our aesthetic sense.
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
Like the poet his idol also is of a lower rank or of a plebeian status. He keeps 
away from such high gods as Indra and Agni and Varuna and Mitra: great poets 
will sing their praises. He will take care of the lesser ones, those who are 
moving in the shadow of the great ones and are hardly noticed. Even in these 
modem days, goddess Shitala, the healing goddess of epidemics, lives side by 
side with Durga.
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
But really it does not matter if the deity is small. For, if the worship is 
sincere and the offering pure, they ultimately reach the Divine. Did not Sri 
Krishna say in the Gita that whomsoever you may worship and in whatever way, 
that in the end reaches him? The importance and significance of worship do not 
depend upon their size and scale: a little water, a leaf, a flower may more than 
do.
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
The small gods are small, but do not slight them— they are powerful. They are 
powerful because they are
</p>
<br><p class="para">
Page-31</p>
<hr>
<br>
<p class="para">deities 
of the earth. In fact, like gods and goddesses in heaven, there are gods and 
goddesses on earth also. The gods in heaven are high and far away, but these 
unobtrusive deities are near to our hearth and home. The Greeks referred to the 
Olympian gods, of high caste and rank as it were,—like Jupiter and Apollo—and to 
those others who dwelt on the lowly earth and embraced its water and land, its 
rivers and trees and fields—the nymph, the satyr, and Pan and dryad and naiad. 
What are the powers and functions of these unearthly beings? They on their part 
are guarding the gate to heaven, questioning the pilgrim of their divine 
destination. Well, the sentinels have to be appeased first, satisfied and 
convinced. Surely the sands bum hotter than the sun!
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
We may ask in this connection which deity does our poet invoke here, to whom 
does he raise his offerings, to whom—<i>kasmai dev&#257;ya? </i>
One need not be startled at the answer: it is 
the toadstool. But the mushroom growth assumes a respectable figure in the guise 
of its Sanskrit name,<i> </i><i>
chatraka</i>. Kalidasa did one better. 
His magic touch gave the insignificant flora a luminous robe- <i>
&#347;il&#299;</i><i>ndhra</i>, a charming name. 
The great poet tells us that the earth is not barren or sterile -<i> kartum yat
</i><i>ca</i> <i>mah</i><i>&#299;mucchil&#299;ndhr&#257;mabandhy&#257;</i><i>m</i>. 
The next pertinent question is: why does the poet worship a toadstool ? What is 
his purpose? Does a toadstool possess any special power? This leads us to a</p>
<p class="para">
hidden world, to the 'mysteries' spoken of by the poet himself.</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
In ancient days and in some spiritual practice and discipline this fungus had a 
special use for a definite purpose.
</p>
<br><p class="para">
Page-32</p>
<hr>
<br>
<p class="para">Its use 
produces on one a drowsy effect, perhaps a strong and poisonous intoxicating 
effect. What is the final result of this drugging? We know that in our country 
among the sadhus and some sects practising occult science, taking of certain 
herbal drugs is recommended, even obligatory. Today Aldous Huxley has taken up 
the cue, in the most modem fashion indeed, and prescribed mescalin in the 
process of Yoga and spiritual practice. Did the Vedic Rishis see in the same way 
a usefulness of Soma, the proverbial creeper secreting the immortal drink of 
delight? However, the Tantrik sadhaks hold that particular soporofics possess 
the virtue of quieting the external senses and dulling and deadening the sense 
organs, and thereby freeing the inner and subtler consciousness in its play and 
manifestation.
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
Our poet too is saying something in the same line. He is appealing to the 
toadstool god to give him the right vision, to take him to the other shore, to 
lead him to the presence of the gods in heaven. Because he is the divine food, 
its self, the ambrosia. Not only that: by taking this ambrosia one enjoys, even 
while in the physical body, existence in heaven, <i>ihaiva tairjitam, </i>
as the Upanishad said.</p>
<blockquote>
	<blockquote>
<p class="para">
That he may pass me through when my star falls
</p>
<p class="para">
Who have ambrosia eaten, and yet live.
</p>
	</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<p class="para"> 
Life extinguishes when the star falls, yet the truer and another life awaits to 
be lived.
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
How does Graves invoke his god? Let us have a complete view of his <i>mantra.</i>
</p>
<br><p class="para">
Page-33</p>
<hr>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
He begins by speaking of the birth of the gods. Well, a small truth needs to be 
revealed at this point. We have spoken of the lesser and smaller gods. These 
small gods are shielded and supported, in fact, by the big gods. This Shilindhra 
or toadstool has behind him Dionysus, the delight and loveliness and enjoyment 
and youth—a veritable symbol of ecstasy, of earthly ecstasy. That which is 
nectar in heaven is presented on earth in drugs and herbal juices. Shilindhra 
and ambrosia pertain to the same class.
</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
The birth of Shilindhra resembles the birth of Dionysus. When King Zeus took the 
form of thunder and lightning and entered the womb of Semele, Dionysus was bom. 
Similar is the story of the appearance of the toadstool, in the midst of rain 
and thunder and lightning and on the lap of mother earth. We have already said 
that there are two categories of gods or two types of them—one belongs to heaven 
and the other to earth. The Vedic Rishis announced that heaven was our father 
and earth the mother— <i>daurme pit&#257; m&#257;t&#257; p&#7771;thvimah&#299;yam. </i>
The Vedantins usuallyand mainly 
worship the father, and Tantriks, the mother. Svarga, Dyaus, is the world of 
light, and earth or 
bhu
is that of delight and enjoyment. We have already said that high above, up there, 
dwell Apollo and Zeus and Juno, and below here on earth, Dionysus and Bacchus 
and Semele and Aphrodite.</p>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
However the poet says that as the toadstool is born in the midst of thunder and 
lightning, his strength and capacity are of the nature of thunder—enduring and 
hard and powerful. Bom thus it spreads everywhere and lasts
</p>
<br><p class="para">
Page-34</p>
<hr>
<br>
<p class="para">through 
all time. From the beginning of creation this god has sprouted up everywhere, as 
giver of pleasure and ecstasy and intoxication. To worship him is to worship 
earth, to worship Dionysus himself. But one needs to worship this god in the 
right way, to give oneself away wholly to him. Once upon a time the demons for 
some selfish interest wanted to capture and imprison him. The result was 
disastrous—he thought of depriving them of their power of movement and drowning 
them into the ocean. On the contrary, to the devoted which world does he reveal, 
which delight bring? Let us listen to the poet:
</p>
<blockquote>
	<blockquote>
<p class="para">
Lead us with your song, Queen of the Earth! </p>
<p class="para">
Twinned to the god, I follow comradely </p>
<p class="para">
Through his first rainbow-limbo, webbed in white, </p>
<p class="para">
Through chill Tyrrhenian grottoes, under water, </p>
<p class="para">
Where dolphins weave among marble rocks. </p>
<p class="para">
Through sword-bright jungles, tangles of conjecture,</p>
<p class="para">
Through halls of fear ceilinged with incubi, </p>
<p class="para">
Through blazing treasure-chambers walled with gems, </p>
<p class="para">
Their domes pillared with naked Caryatides;</p>
<p class="para">
Then mount at last on wings into pure air, </p>
<p class="para">
Peering down with regal eye upon </p>
<p class="para">
Five-fruited orchards of Elysium. </p>
	</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<p class="para"> 
Let us not be too curious to know the name of the five fruits whose taste brings 
an immortal delight, but do we not relish already a foretaste of its sweetness 
in these lines:
</p>
<blockquote>
	<blockquote>
<p class="para">
And still she drowsily sings: </p>
<p class="para">
Tender her voice, the notes come linked together </p>
	</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<p class="para">
Page-35</p>
<hr>
<br>
<blockquote>
	<blockquote>
<p class="para">
In intricate golden chains paid out </p>
<p class="para">
Slowly across brocaded cramoisy, </p>
<p class="para">
Or unfold like leaves from the jade-green shoot </p>
<p class="para">
Of a rising tree whose blossoms are her tears... </p>
<p class="para">
O, whenever she pauses, my heart quails </p>
<p class="para">
Until the sound renews. </p>
	</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<p class="para"> 
Here in this connection one is naturally reminded of Sri Aurobindo's <i>The 
Other Earths. </i>The poem 
reveals other earths like this earth of ours as reflections or projections or 
prototypes: like the concretely visible earth here, they too are equally 
beautiful, with million colours and shades. We are bl,ind and cannot see them. 
But when we learn to see with the eye of our eye there appear clear before us</p>
<blockquote>
	<blockquote>
<p class="para">
Calm faces of the Gods on background vast </p>
<p class="para">
Bringing the marvel of the infinitudes, </p>
<p class="para">
Through glimmering veils of wonder and delight </p>
<p class="para">
World after world bursts on the awakened sight. </p>
	</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<p class="para"> 
Of course, in Sri Aurobindo we reach the inner and higher world through a 
luminous path, through worlds of light, ranging one upon another. It is a 
journey through pure air and clear light. Conversely the poet of the toadstool 
leads one by the passage of an acid drunkenness and a half conscious drowse. If 
the goal here is a delight and a freedom they are arrived at after traversing a 
purgatory or undergoing a troubled purification. But this too leads verily to a 
world of the gods.
</p>
<br><p class="para">
Page-36</p>
<hr>
<br>
<p class="para"> 
This &quot;little slender lad, whose flesh is bitter, lightning engendered, bom from 
dungs of mares&quot; is perhaps a symbol of our human receptacle. We have to carry 
this mortal frame with its clay feet and make the effort towards 
self-transcendence: the alchemy's other name is self-purification and 
self-perfection. This tender shoot is a mysterious chemical storehouse, its 
fermentation and purification and use awaken in us the sleeping divine will, 
give a clear vision, guide us through the secret worlds and ultimately to the 
home of Immortality. The Vedic Rishis sang to the Soma creeper or god Soma, <i>
Tatra m&#257;m am&#7771;tam k&#7771;dhi, </i>O 
Somadeva, carry us where thou flowest down and there make us immortal. For there 
abound all delight, all ecstasy, all enjoyment, all lure and the supreme Desire 
of desire – 
<i>&#257;nanda, 
moda, mud, pramud, 
k&#257;</i><i>ma</i><sup>1</sup>–
are these not the five 
fruits of heaven the poet of the West mentions?</p>
<br>
<br>
<p class="para">
 <i><sup>1</sup> Yatr&#257;nand&#257;&#347;ca 
mod&#257;&#347;ca muda&#7717;
pramuda &#257;sate k&#257;masya yatr&#257;pt&#257;&#7717;
k&#257;m&#257;&#7717;
(Rigveda: IX. 113)</i></p>
<br><p class="para">
Page-37</p>
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