Said a nightingale to a snake: "There is a little poison in my heart too. When its pain stings sharp, I sing and feel light as a feather. Why do you never sing?"
A cuckoo heard the nightingale, smiled and said, "Snakes have no ears and he can't hear your words."
The nightingale became pensive and said to herself,"How sad he can't hear my songs. There is no music in his life." And she wondered if that was why the snake had to live with so much poison in his soul. "I must find some way to help him sing," she found herself mumbling, and the melancholy strain in her song filled the valley.
The snake slithered into a dark hole. This saddened the nightingale even more. The valley reverberated with her pain all night. In the morning, the sun searched every branch, but the nightingale was nowhere to be found. Said a little flower to the sun," She has gone to the valleys unknown to get some music for the snake who lives here."
"Amen !" said the sun, and went about his work, too sad deep within his heart as he had seen something that looked like a nightingale's body lying, peaceful and still, close to where the snake lived. But the sun did not want to violate the innocence of the little flower, and remained quiet.
A pilgrim, who had just finished his daily ritual of offering water to the sun, stood on the banks of the river, absolutely still on one leg, his eyes closed, his lips murmuring a prayer, "Let her last wish be fulfilled, O Lord of Light. Fill the snake's hole and his heart with light."
The Sun shone hotter but not brighter. This saddened the Brahmin because he had always known that wherever the Nightingale might be, anger would hurt her gentle soul. He kept praying and sent his thoughts across the Sun to the Sky. The Sun saw it but only growled to himself, "The Sky never listens. Like the snake, the sky has no ears."
The pilgrim kept praying and hoping. Finally, as the Sun started to roll his sheets back preparing to leave for some other zones in the sky, it began to turn dark. "Soon, night hummed its velvet melody. "The snake loves the night and the dark. Soon he will be out, and resume his act, pretending to dance to the song of the night," said the Brahmin to the stars.
Venus was listening to the Brahmin's heartbeat. The star could also see that there was a massive load on the Brahmin's heart as it was still heavy with the thoughts of the nightingale's disappearance. The temptress Venus pulled closer to the devotee and spoke in his ear. "Do not grieve for your friend, noble soul. She is with us and shines over everything in the valley."
"Can she see the snake now? Would she be careful at least now, at least in the dark of the night?" the Brahmin asked.
"No," said, Venus, " But why do you forget, Holy One, that her name is nightingale, and she is of the night born. "
" Why couldn't she see the snake last night?"
"Why could she not ..how could she not? " echoed Venus, and carried on, " She had seen and known everything since the day she had befriended the snake. "
"Then why did she not .....," interrupted the Brahmin, more out of anxiety and sadness than anger.
"Nightingale is no priest. She knows not virtue form vice, piety from sin,"
"Oh, is she ignorant?"
"Innocent. She knows but this: that one either sings or one doesn't. And that a Song is the language love speaks. Song dies when love deserts you. And when love deserts you, pain deserts you too. The loveless snakes know no pain because they are loveless. There is no place for pain in their hearts because all the place is taken by poison, by hatred. The poor snake was suffering a loveless existence. There was no music in his life because there was no pain in his heart, only misery. And misery is not pain. He was miserable. "
"But.."
"But Nightingale wanted to bring some music into his life. She could not bear to see anyone songless, loveless, miserable. Nightingales are like that." The snakes don't weep because there is no pain in their hearts. She wanted to teach the snake how to wash misery with tears. And she wanted tears to be lyrics and to she wanted to sing these for him. The song she thought would bring pain into his life, and therefore happiness."
"Then..?"
"She was innocent as God is, like lovers. There is no place for a song in a heart already overflowing with poison and hatred."
"She didn't know? But she was wise.."
"Wisdom gave her innocence, or perhaps the other way round. She didn't want wisdom except the wisdom to love and liberate, and she wanted to liberate everyone, especially the Snakes of poison and misery."
As Venus and Brahmin talked, the sky lowered his soul and listened in. There was a dewdrop in the corner of his eye. It sparkled and mirrored its lover, the Sun, to let him know how it was aching in wait. Nightingale had often sung to the sky to celebrate the tear's ache for the Sun. Will there be no song now?
The Sky knew how the nightingale had disappeared. The sky always knows, and always knows how to keep a secret. The snake had asked her over to his hole at night to teach to sing. And nightingale never knew how to refuse a request, especially if it meant a song, and even more especially if the song meant liberation. The valley was full of tales of how nightingales get invited over at night to sing and to melt away with their songs. This nightingale had known those tales. But every bird, animal, plant, vine and flower in the valley knew that between a tale and a song, every nightingale always chooses a song. And by every song of a nightingale hangs a tale.
Three years have passed since the nightingale was last seen in the branches. But every four weeks, when the moon is full, pregnant with virgin glow, the valley reverberates with a fresh yet familiar song. As the song melts away into moonshine, the valley overflows with reptiles suddenly getting submerged in soil, and in their place sprout and grow lovely flower plants from whose branches and lush and thick foliage emerge winged songs resembling angels whose throats are blue from drinking poison. And as the valley watches, the angels bow to the arrival of a bird whose only care is to sing to children songs of forgotten innocence.
A cuckoo heard the nightingale, smiled and said, "Snakes have no ears and he can't hear your words."
The nightingale became pensive and said to herself,"How sad he can't hear my songs. There is no music in his life." And she wondered if that was why the snake had to live with so much poison in his soul. "I must find some way to help him sing," she found herself mumbling, and the melancholy strain in her song filled the valley.
The snake slithered into a dark hole. This saddened the nightingale even more. The valley reverberated with her pain all night. In the morning, the sun searched every branch, but the nightingale was nowhere to be found. Said a little flower to the sun," She has gone to the valleys unknown to get some music for the snake who lives here."
"Amen !" said the sun, and went about his work, too sad deep within his heart as he had seen something that looked like a nightingale's body lying, peaceful and still, close to where the snake lived. But the sun did not want to violate the innocence of the little flower, and remained quiet.
A pilgrim, who had just finished his daily ritual of offering water to the sun, stood on the banks of the river, absolutely still on one leg, his eyes closed, his lips murmuring a prayer, "Let her last wish be fulfilled, O Lord of Light. Fill the snake's hole and his heart with light."
The Sun shone hotter but not brighter. This saddened the Brahmin because he had always known that wherever the Nightingale might be, anger would hurt her gentle soul. He kept praying and sent his thoughts across the Sun to the Sky. The Sun saw it but only growled to himself, "The Sky never listens. Like the snake, the sky has no ears."
The pilgrim kept praying and hoping. Finally, as the Sun started to roll his sheets back preparing to leave for some other zones in the sky, it began to turn dark. "Soon, night hummed its velvet melody. "The snake loves the night and the dark. Soon he will be out, and resume his act, pretending to dance to the song of the night," said the Brahmin to the stars.
Venus was listening to the Brahmin's heartbeat. The star could also see that there was a massive load on the Brahmin's heart as it was still heavy with the thoughts of the nightingale's disappearance. The temptress Venus pulled closer to the devotee and spoke in his ear. "Do not grieve for your friend, noble soul. She is with us and shines over everything in the valley."
"Can she see the snake now? Would she be careful at least now, at least in the dark of the night?" the Brahmin asked.
"No," said, Venus, " But why do you forget, Holy One, that her name is nightingale, and she is of the night born. "
" Why couldn't she see the snake last night?"
"Why could she not ..how could she not? " echoed Venus, and carried on, " She had seen and known everything since the day she had befriended the snake. "
"Then why did she not .....," interrupted the Brahmin, more out of anxiety and sadness than anger.
"Nightingale is no priest. She knows not virtue form vice, piety from sin,"
"Oh, is she ignorant?"
"Innocent. She knows but this: that one either sings or one doesn't. And that a Song is the language love speaks. Song dies when love deserts you. And when love deserts you, pain deserts you too. The loveless snakes know no pain because they are loveless. There is no place for pain in their hearts because all the place is taken by poison, by hatred. The poor snake was suffering a loveless existence. There was no music in his life because there was no pain in his heart, only misery. And misery is not pain. He was miserable. "
"But.."
"But Nightingale wanted to bring some music into his life. She could not bear to see anyone songless, loveless, miserable. Nightingales are like that." The snakes don't weep because there is no pain in their hearts. She wanted to teach the snake how to wash misery with tears. And she wanted tears to be lyrics and to she wanted to sing these for him. The song she thought would bring pain into his life, and therefore happiness."
"Then..?"
"She was innocent as God is, like lovers. There is no place for a song in a heart already overflowing with poison and hatred."
"She didn't know? But she was wise.."
"Wisdom gave her innocence, or perhaps the other way round. She didn't want wisdom except the wisdom to love and liberate, and she wanted to liberate everyone, especially the Snakes of poison and misery."
As Venus and Brahmin talked, the sky lowered his soul and listened in. There was a dewdrop in the corner of his eye. It sparkled and mirrored its lover, the Sun, to let him know how it was aching in wait. Nightingale had often sung to the sky to celebrate the tear's ache for the Sun. Will there be no song now?
The Sky knew how the nightingale had disappeared. The sky always knows, and always knows how to keep a secret. The snake had asked her over to his hole at night to teach to sing. And nightingale never knew how to refuse a request, especially if it meant a song, and even more especially if the song meant liberation. The valley was full of tales of how nightingales get invited over at night to sing and to melt away with their songs. This nightingale had known those tales. But every bird, animal, plant, vine and flower in the valley knew that between a tale and a song, every nightingale always chooses a song. And by every song of a nightingale hangs a tale.
Three years have passed since the nightingale was last seen in the branches. But every four weeks, when the moon is full, pregnant with virgin glow, the valley reverberates with a fresh yet familiar song. As the song melts away into moonshine, the valley overflows with reptiles suddenly getting submerged in soil, and in their place sprout and grow lovely flower plants from whose branches and lush and thick foliage emerge winged songs resembling angels whose throats are blue from drinking poison. And as the valley watches, the angels bow to the arrival of a bird whose only care is to sing to children songs of forgotten innocence.
1 comment:
Interesting!
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