To the Wonder Spirit
O wonder Spirit of beauty, joy and harmony
Asleep in the mystic chamber of the aspiring soul,
Awake and spread wide your peaceful wings
On our warring passions, senseless thoughts and actions
Let our mind be a vast sanctuary of unbroken felicity
Let our emotions be warm and sustained notes of vibrating strings
.Let our actions be at good times, at odd times, a symphony of solidarity.
O wonder Spirit of beauty, joy and harmony
Strip away our heart, mind, body and soul,
The hard layers of ugly violence, endless cruel suffering
And release the dancing fountains of sparkling song and laughter.
We are as yet only partly divine even at our greatest summit moments
Waning and waxing like the moon, ever unreliable, inconstant.
The human retreats slowly before the steadily growing Light within.
The age-gold prophetic manifests of the kingdom of God on earth.
O wonder Spirit of beauty
Your active presence is now a reality.
A new muted race still wearing the human face glowing with the psychic Fire
Appears on the horizon to change this nightmare
Into an exquisit radiant dream.
Douce Mère 21 February
You send down the rays of a New Sun
Penetrating our brain, every cell of our body.
As our surrender grows
You pour Yourself more and more
Into our heart, mind, body and soul
And become the luminous , blissful
Compassionate Sovereign of our life.
***
The Mystic Dance
When I look at the dark night, I wonder.
Myriads of stars hiding the sleeping God inside,
Waiting to blossom one day as the dry countryside after a rain.
God sleeps in the stone, in bricks, wood and metals,
He rises from the grassy lands with his assuring hands,
He lies under our feet, undisturbed, lives in all the bodies as a Guest.
The inter-galactic space is filled with his life-giving breath.
The sun, moon and the stars and the void,
The million varieties of living forms, invisible beings,
Incalculable forces and movements, broken glasses veil God,
The only indivisible Reality,
In whom there is no past, success, failure or future, timeless,
Filling all time yet not occupying any space, not even a point,
Overflowing the infinite boundless expanses,
In whom there is nothing far, in time or space,
No life or death, none other than himself, companionless,
Ever fulfilled, a bodiless marvel, an inexhaustible opulent existence,
An ocean in movement, a stillness unimaginable.
Myriads of candles twinkling on water, drifting, swirling in circles,
Each one a mighty mystery, an undiminished absolute monarch.
An ever-pure, immaculate splendour holding all in a strong embrace.
Unending dramas on an inscrutable, immobile, constantly shifting,
Rotating, floating deck, sweeping gales, uncontrolled outbursts,
Felicitous eruptions, geysers of perennial light and sweetness,
The mystic dance of the Mother
On the heaving bosom of the Lord in trance.
***
Niranjan Guha Roy
The Secret Spîrit
O Secret Spirit, penetrating the vast Universe and beyond,
All its nooks and corners with Your breathing Presence,
Substance of dreams, realities and abysmal mysteries,
From the most luminous high Divinities
To the tenebrous god-denying almighties,
You are always the same intimate, nameless Supreme.
I see You, feel and touch You and hear Your voice,
Yet You are the strangest of the strangers, I have ever met.
Do I exist? It makes me laugh, such a ridiculous question.
In Your boundless unbroken changeless Self-extension,
An isotope of an old shattered atom, pulsating with hope
For the billionth of an undying second that is myself.
No, I do not exist yet this moment is rich and poignant.
O Secret Self, from You I am born, Your body’s portion,
In You I disappear like the exalted sprays
Falling back into the ocean in suspense.
When I contemplate the endless sacred procession
Of Your fugitive names and faces on the cinerama of Time,
Then and then only I vibrate and my life even so insignificant
Glows and burns in ecstasy like a meteor in explosion.
Niranjan Guha Roy
Meeting the Mother and Sri Aurobindo
O Secret Spirit, subtler than the subtlest as You are,
Yet You have inhabited these fragile earthen frames,
To make Yourself tangible, accessible to the soul of man.
You speak through Them each word they say,
You pour through Them the molten gold of an invisible Sun.
Before I caught a glimpse of Them, arranged by a lucky accident,
Like a lost tragic note cries moaning in the hopeless night,
My desolate life was a tedious stretch of a wretched play,
A huge senseless waste, a perpetual gnawing affliction.
Had I not met Them and borne Their transmuting gaze,
I could never, never have believed
That the Divine is so wonderful, all love and compassion.
Like a passionate moth burning madly for the embrace of fire,
My whole being yarns to be possessed by the divine sweetness
Till nothing is left of the amalgam that is myself.
In answer to my desperate longing,
You have pressed a tiny down from the benign peaks,
Melt and purify the petrified filth and gloom of the ages.
My soul now deeply satisfied, a happy one-note hymn of faith,
Throbs faintly with gratitude, drowned in the symphony of Grace.
Glory to You, my Friend, Sweetheart, Master, Guide and Queen,
Glory to Your Messengers, Emanations and Incarnations.
Glory to the earthly bodies filled with the Holy Spirit
.Niranjan Guha Roy
Paintings -The Mother and the flowers
Meditation of the Mother
Doors to the Light
Paintings - Niranjan Guha Roy
Paintings - Prayer
Prayer and Surrender
Prayer and Concentration inside
Prayer and offering
Guha Roy
Emergence of the psychic being
The most brilliant and even the most sympathetic human beings
Have not been able to create even a small world of peace, unity, harmony and joy.
Not the mind, not even a generous vital consciousness
Can create peace and harmony in human life, in a community.
It is only through the development of the inmost psychic being
And its emergence and government that it can create a unified being composed
Of a large number of mental vital physical personalities and forces.
Average man is by his nature unstable, he has no control over his life and action.
He is moved all the time by deep-seated contradictory elements and his ego.
Only in a minority of human,the psychic being is sufficiently developed
Though not yet a king in full control of his kingdom.
Only the supramental power and consciousness can make the psychic being fully conscious
And powerful enough to become the leader of all the elements in him.
It is only the supramental power manifesting in the psychic being
That can fundamentally change the human nature and consciousness
Into a luminous divine being with divine nature and consciousness.
The psyche is waiting for an auspicious hour to wake up
In a new world of incredible wonder and irresistible fascination.
Niranjan Guha Roy
The constantly shifting mystery
When I look at the dark night, I wonder.
Myriads of stars hiding the sleeping God inside,
Waiting to blossom one day as the dry countryside after a rain.
God sleeps in the stone, in bricks, wood and metals,
He rises from the grassy lands with his assuring hands,
He lies under our feet, undisturbed, lives in all the bodies as a Guest.
The inter-galactic space is filled with His life-giving breath.
The sun, moon and the stars and the void,
The million varieties of living forms, invisible beings,
Incalculable forces and movements, broken glasses veil God,
The only indivisible Reality,
In whom there is no past, success, failure or future, timeless,
Filling all time yet not occupying any space, not even a point,
Overflowing the infinite boundless expanses,
In whom there is nothing far, in time or space,
No life or death, none other than himself, companionless,
Ever fulfilled, a bodiless marvel, an inexhaustible opulent existence,
An ocean in movement, a stillness unimaginable.
Myriads of candles twinkling on water, drifting, swirling in circles,
Each one a mighty mystery, an undiminished absolute monarch.
An ever-pure, immaculate splendour holding all in a strong embrace.
Unending dramas on an inscrutable, immobile, constantly shifting,
Rotating, floating deck, sweeping gales, uncontrolled outbursts,
Felicitous eruptions, geysers of perennial light and sweetness,
The mystic dance of the Mother
On the heaving bosom of the Lord in trance.
***
Niranjan Guha Roy
The Children of Light
Men and women suffer, enjoy themselves, knife each other and dance.
The next day starts again the infernal round of dance.
Some love war, ruin, the drunkenness of the violence.
Some relieve and cure the wounds of the others.
Each one in his turn is sometimes a rescuer, sometimes a murderer.
The groups are in confrontation all the time pushed by passion.
But the earth is beautiful, rich and lavishes its kindness without counting
Without second thought for the devils as for the saints.
People through ages sprayed the earth with their plentiful blood.
Others, dreamers, create immense temples to their favorite gods.
In the name of the Creator, man did not stop killing his brothers and sisters.
Can one turn away from a deaf person who hears not a word or sound!
Can one reprimand a man incapable to control his passion and desires!
The God in him is only a vague image; the animal is still strong, terrible.
The man in spite of his absurd claims is only a weak, precarious being.
He is a product, a creation of Nature, such as the horse and the monkey.
He is still blind, deaf, violent, incapable of organizing his destiny.
Nature cannot content itself with a failure so blatant, so disheartening.
Behind the appearance of an inevitable tragic fate of human race,
There is an eternal patient maternal power, the luminous Love
At work without rest in the mystic heart of the people.
Dogs do not see either the beauty of Venus,
Or the greatness of the Buddha.
Man does not perceive the divine Reality nor the children of Light.
Free of desire, exempt from any animal passions, luminous, peaceful,
United by the Divine Love, moved by the Divine Will,
These children conscious of the unique Infinite Divine Mother,
Grow, nourished by the Truth.
Their inexhaustible joy, their beauty,
Kindness and frank laughter will abolish
The cruel reign of the false, long dreadful nightmare.
The freed earth will cry with joy
As a child who has found his Mother.
*********
Niranjan Guha Roy