Vision of the Future


A little patience and everything will be all right;
the Mother is at work.
The wars of religion, class and colors will disappear
Carried away by the tide of the Divine Force, without leaving the least trace.

A little patience and everything will be all right; the Mother is at work;
People will forget their natural egoism, their innate violence.
They will discover the divine unity in their unique Origin.
Man, close to the animal, will not be carnivore any more.
Famine, disease, shipwrecks, accidents will be rare.
We will not any more hear the tears of the starved, mistreated children,
Nor the sobs of the dishonored, tortured women.
Man will be touched by the spirit, or he will disappear as the dinosaur.
Nature will become sweeter, less whimsical.
There will be a place for each under the blessed Sun.
Birth and death will be at will.
The modern, decadent mega poles, centers of crimes and intrigues,
Will fall into ruin without leaving much souvenir or regre.t
Temple-Cities of a spiritual era will welcome the aspirants.
An intimate occult communication would make the travels useless.
Nobody would be a stranger anywhere, but a brother.

The Mother is at work in the heart of every human being.
The universal Love would connect everybody by a golden thread.
The awakened soul would find enjoyment in the blossoming
Of his brothers, in their fulfillment, his own growth.
Seized by a heavenly passion, people will form communities
According to their affinity, so many orchestras of harmony and beauty.
Pain and suffering, torments of agony, cruelty
Will reveal the secret they hide behind their facade.
Everything is the incalculable magic of the Mother enjoying Herself.
Only she can cancel the curse, which presses on our fate.
In a wink, this terrible world would reveal a Reality,
An unlimited, eternal existence, a luminous Bliss,
A plenitude, which contains all the absolute, and even more.
One is eternally everything, everywhere, immersed in the Divine.
Only She lives, acts, works, unchanging, immobile, unknown, blissful.


Le Bonheur - Happiness

N.Guha Roy1993

Poem - The Delegate to the Festival of light

Bring me the opal cups of the bloom of Morning
Fill them with the wine brewed from the Divine Ecstasy;

I have been named a delegate to the Festival of Light.

Bring me the crown of fire,
Sprinkle silvery dust of the stars in my hair;
The spring tide has verily flooded my soul.

Bring me a psyche-rose, love-fed source of perennial delight,
Make up my lips with the yearning of the pomegranate seeds;
Glad hymns of a realised dream haunt my ears.

Bring me the sandals that tread the path of the tenderest love,
And the mystic flag, blue and gold of undying hope;
Summon the crescent-moon to take me to the Carnival.


N.Guha Roy 1960


All is verily the Brahman, the Mother, the Eternal

Without the Mother life is a harsh monotony of an endless journey. Even the richest Temple where the light of the Mother is absent is like the dead shell of a brilliant giant oyster.
When the Mother is present in the consciousness with Her smile, the most frightful hell melts away like a bad dream to reveal an unimaginable Wonder, a mystic ineffable Splendor.
Behind the shabby costumes and repulsive look of a stranger hides our Friend, the most marvelous inimitable supreme Actor.
As long as man remains a man, merely a thinker closed to light, there is little sign of his redemption in sight but for the Grace. In an impulse, he could exterminate his own kind in a flash.
The same blood flows in the veins of all men everywhere on earth, his organs are not stamped with any religion or creed. The devilish violence, lust, greed, hate and intolerance, the mad stampede for money and power, the ego-drive for pleasure are symptoms of his chronic illness, tragic cause of his fallen state.
Yet deep in the occult heart of man dwells a Divinity, a high god who is preparing through the ages, the miraculous hour of revelation.
The Supreme Mother is pressing down on the thick obstinate wall of petrified ignorance separating man from his all-knowing Soul. One by one, little by little, the desperate centers of resistance, the towering castles of violence are crumbling under Her pressure.

In some corner, somewhere, a new heart, a luminous divine bud
Fed with the Mother’s radiant love is blossoming into a flower.
The Mother is the heaven, the deathless abode of the supernal delight.
All the maladies vanish magically
when the mind is struck by Her lightings
And flooded with Her Power and sweetness.
The most desolate cruel desert becomes a blissful Paradise.

Om Douce Mère.
Om Sacchidananda swarupini, vijayini, janani.

Niranjan Guha Roy 1993