Blessing of Hope

by Lee Krush

Creative and independent thinking requires solitude. As a poet, a writer, a song composer and an artist, Rabindranath Tagore (1861–1941) naturally craved for an isolated idyllic surrounding, but his heartfelt love for his people turned him into a social reformer. He was the first to physically introduce rural reconstruction in India, and yet Tagore could have been one of the most misunderstood men during one’s lifetime.

When Tagore was in his late twenties, he was requested by his father to take up responsibilities as a landlord in East Bengal, his immediate response was: “I was a poet, a scribbler — what did I know about such matters?” As he started his duties in the villages, what captured his heart the most was the natural beauty of the changing seasons, and the pleasant rustic lifestyle in the countryside. After coming into close contact with all kinds of people, gaining their trust so much so that they would tell him their stories, he became concerned with the social injustice and poverty these villagers were suffering from. It was only then did he come out of his hermetic poet’s life, and began a life of action to serve his countrymen.

A humanitarian at heart, he wanted to make changes to improve their living conditions, but he also realized that simply helping in a charitable manner could not solve the issue: “I did not think helping from outside would help. I began to try and open their minds towards self-reliance.” But it was not an easy task to change those who believed suffering was a consequence of their past-life sins, and the rigid caste system further reinforced their hopelessness. With this in mind, Tagore started his school in Santiniketan. His intention was to create a friendly atmosphere for young children from different social backgrounds, where they were not forced to memorize information, but were free to express themselves according to their personal inclinations in the most natural surroundings — for the innermost truth could only be found within the Self.

His ideal was to follow the ancient Indian hermitage, when knowledge was offered freely to the students. He sold everything he had to establish Santiniketan. As the reputation of his school grew, it became too expensive and complicated to operate it in his idealistic way. He started charging fees reluctantly, though he believed that an atmosphere had been created. Perhaps this spirit of independent thinking was inspired by his father, Debendranath, who originally bought the lands near Bolpur and named it Santiniketan, which means Abode of Peace. Tagore recalled his father as someone who “…knew that truth, if strayed from, can be found again, but a forced or blind acceptance of it from the outside effectually bars the way.”

Seekers of Truth are often the lonely ones. They must distance themselves from the fervent but confused crowd, so as to maintain their clear vision of the whole. What Tagore impressed me the most with is that even when he was deeply involved in a political movement, being pushed from all sides over a seemingly unquestionable goal, he was still able to perceive the menace of methods of which this goal was to be achieved. When the Swadeshi Movement in Bengal turned violent in between caste and creed, he withdrew himself from it in spite of his leading role and started his own rural reconstruction in his family estates, which included Hindu and Muslim tenants alike.

He was misunderstood by his countrymen for not taking part. Dignity of the soul meant much more to him than fighting for the sake of a national pride. Scorned by his fellow countrymen — a people he deeply loved — Tagore transformed his personal crisis into literature. His reflection on the Swadeshi Movement could be reviewed in Home and the World. Though I am not suggesting that it is an autobiographical account of the entire event, his detailed description of the psychological development of his characters in this world renowned novel creates an illusion, which makes one believe that it could very well be his personal experience.

Mahatma Gandhi became lifelong friends with Tagore. Once again, he did not join Gandhi’s Non-cooperation Movement. Not because he did not have any opinions on the political situation regarding his homeland, but exactly because he did that he was afraid of submerging himself within it, knowing full well that it was in our human nature to overlook reality whenever people were being put into a self-defensive opposition. He could not bare to suppress his instincts for any cause — as heroic as it might be. Later on, it was because of Tagore’s genuine concern over Gandhi’s weakened state, and the probability of India without her leader, that Gandhi decided to break his fast with Tagore being by his bedside.

Instead of being directly involved in politics, he founded his Visva-Bharati University in Santiniketan in 1919. With its motto “where the world meets in one nest” Visva-Bharati University was an institution to encourage understanding between East and West, and the study of different cultures. Driven by a sense of mission, Tagore worked hard on becoming fully bilingual after turning fifty in order to express the urgency of global cooperation. His main objective was to speak up against militant nationalism, and his insights on patriotism resonate a timeless tune in our contemporary troubled era.

Over the years, he had over-stressed himself with his extended international travelling and lecturing. Moreover, he began to feel worn out by the misinterpretation of his unwelcome truth. Confronted with his growing doubt about finding an immediate solution for a peaceful relationship between nations and his ever-weakening health, Tagore emerged himself in a new creative endeavour — without any previous formal training he started painting in his late sixties. As prolific as he was with his writings, he produced approximately four hundred sketches and paintings in different mediums within two years. His style could be regarded as the pioneer of modern Indian art.

In his essay A Poet’s Testament delivered on the poet’s seventieth birthday, Tagore expressed his view of self-reflection on the meaning of his existence: “…I can now realize that I have but one introduction to the world — which is that I am a poet and nothing else.” After winning the Nobel Prize of Literature in 1913, Tagore could have easily enjoyed a comfortable life in the countryside of Bengal, and focused his creative energy on writing poetry. He admitted that it was his ambition which took him to the West. But I believe this ambition was not meant for acquiring personal gain; it was because of his love of freedom and his eagerness to create a harmonious world that he carried on humanitarian work.

Ever since the outbreak of the First World War, Tagore had repeatedly emphasized the danger of nationalism, organized propaganda, and the accumulation of militant power. When he first appeared in the West for his lectures — wearing a long beard and dressing in a long robe, his foreign audiences thought that he had the mystical aura of an oriental prophet. But he saw himself as a rather ordinary man, and took it for granted that with sincerity his humanitarian ideals could come across eventually. Needless to say, it was too much for one humble pacifist to stop the giant machine. The poet lived long enough to witness the outbreak of the Second World War, but not long enough for the Independence of India. Nonetheless, on his eightieth birthday he left us with a blessing of hope in his essay Crisis in Civilization:

“I look back on the stretch of past years and see the crumbling ruins of a proud civilization lying heaped as garbage out of history! And yet I shall not commit the grievous sin of losing faith in Man, accepting his present defeat as final. I shall look forward to a turning in history after the cataclysm is over and the sky is again unburdened and passionless.”

It must have been over fifteen years since I first encountered Tagore’s words. My literary interest had drifted to all directions in time. It was only a few years ago when I started reading the series of Seth books produced by Jane Roberts and her husband, Robert F. Butts, that I remembered Tagore again. As I read Seth’s words I kept thinking to myself, “Didn’t Rabindranath Tagore say that?” The concepts of these two Speakers are in unison. However, Tagore is not just profound in thinking, but his words are also extremely lyrical and eloquently expressed.