1. ASANA

(Instrumental)


2. HER CRIMSON LOTUS FEET

She is all beauty
This woman nude and terrible and black,
Who tells the name of God
On the skulls of the dead,
Who creates the bloodshed on which demons fatten,
Who slays rejoicing and repents not,
And blesses him only that lies crushed beneath Her feet.
Her mass of black hair
Flows behind Her like the wind,
Or like time “the drift and passage of things.”
She is blue almost to blackness,
Like a mighty shadow,
And bare like the dread realities of life and death.

O Mother Kali with a necklace of human heads!
What magic hast Thou shown me!
O Mother! Thou didst teach me how to call Thee ‘mother,’
and make me mad calling Thee ‘mother’ constantly.
Tell me, O Mother Tara,
where Thou didst get such a name full of nectar
Worldly people call me Prasad
whenever they meet me.
Even the members of my family call me names.
But do I deviate from my path,
O Mother Kali, being misled by their abuses?
Let them say whatever they like;
I will always mutter ‘Kali,’ ‘Kali.’
Honour and dishonour are all alike to me;
I have cast aside maya,
And made Thy rosy feet the be-all-and-end-all of my life;
shall I be misguided by worldly people anymore?

In dense darkness, O Mother, Thy formless beauty sparkles;
Therefore the yogis meditate in a dark mountain cave.
In the lap of boundless dark, on Mahanirvana’s waves upborne,
Peace flows serene and inexhaustible.
Taking the form of the Void, in the robe of darkness wrapped,
Who art Thou, Mother, seated alone in the shrine of samadhi?
From the Lotus of Thy fear-scattering Feet flash Thy love’s lightnings;
Thy Spirit-Face shines forth with laughter terrible and loud!

I shall become a yogi and dwell in Love’s mountain cave;
I shall be lost in yoga beside the Fountain-head of Bliss.
I shall appease my hunger for Knowledge with the fruit of Truth;
I shall worship the feet of God with the flower of Dispassion.

I shall not seek a well to slake the burning thirst of my heart,
But I shall draw the water of Peace into the jar of my soul.
Drinking the glorious Nectar of Thy blessed Lotus Feet,
I shall both laugh and dance and weep and sing on the heights of Joy.

This time I shall devour Thee utterly, Mother Kali!
For I was born under an evil star,
And one so born becomes, they say, the eater of his mother.
Thou must devour me first, or I myself shall eat Thee up;
One or the other it must be.

I shall besmear my hands with black
and with black my face;
With black I shall besmear the whole of my body.
And when Death seizes me,
with black I shall besmear his face.

O Mother I shall eat Thee up
but not digest Thee;
I shall install Thee in my heart
And make Thee offerings with my mind.

You may say that by eating Kali
I shall embroil myself
With Kala, Her husband,
but I am not afraid;
Braving His anger,
I shall chant my Mother’s name.
Come what may, I shall eat Thee up-
Thee and Thine retinue –
Or lose my life attempting it.

Crazy is my Father, crazy is my Mother,
And I, their son, am crazy too!
Syama is my Mother’s name.
My Father strikes His cheeks and makes a hollow sound:
Ba-ba-boom! Ba-ba-boom!
And my Mother, drunk and reeling,
Falls across my Father’s body!
Syama’s streaming tresses hang in vast disorder;
Bees are swarming numberless
About Her crimson Lotus Feet.
Listen, as She dances, how Her anklets ring!

Is Kali, my Mother, really black?
The Naked One, of blackest hue,
Lights the Lotus of the Heart…

Cherish my precious Mother Syama
Tenderly within, O mind;
May you and I alone behold Her,
Letting no one else intrude.


3. SHYAMA

Awake, Mother, Awake!
How long Thou hast been asleep
In the lotus of Muladhara!
Fulfil Thy secret function, Mother:
Rise to the thousand-petalled lotus within the head,
Where mighty Siva has His dwelling;
Swiftly pierce the six lotuses
And take away my grief,
O Essence of Consciousness!

Can everyone have the vision of Shyama?
Is Kali’s treasure for everyone?
Oh, what a pity my foolish mind
will not see what is true!
Even with all His penances,
rarely does Siva Himself behold
The mind-bewitching sight
of Mother Shyama’s crimson feet.

To him who meditates on Her,
the riches of heaven are poor indeed;
If Shyama casts Her glance on him,
he swims in Eternal Bliss.
The prince of yogis, the king of the Gods,
meditate on Her feet in vain;
Yet worthless Kamalakanta
yearns for the Mother’s blessed feet!

O Mother, make me mad with Thy love!
What need have I of knowledge or reason?
Make me drunk with Thy love’s Wine;
O Thou who stealest Thy bhaktas’ hearts,
Drown me deep in the Sea of Thy love!

Here in this world, this madhouse of Thine,
Some laugh, some weep, some dance for joy:
Jesus, Buddha, Moses, Gauranga,
All are drunk with the Wine of Thy love.
O Mother, when shall I be blessed
By joining their blissful company?

I drink no ordinary wine,
but Wine of Everlasting Bliss,
As I repeat my Mother Kali’s name;
It so intoxicates my mind that people take me to be drunk!
First my guru gives molasses for the making of the Wine;
My longing is the ferment to transform it.
Knowledge, the maker of the Wine,
prepares it for me then;
And when it is done,
my mind imbibes it from the bottle of the mantra,
Taking the Mother’s name to make it pure.
Drink of this Wine, says Ramprasad,
and the four fruits of life are yours.

Mother, am I Thine eight-months child?
Thy red eyes cannot frighten me!
My riches are Thy Lotus Feet,
which Siva holds upon His breast;
Yet, when I seek my heritage,
I meet with excuses and delays.
A deed of gift I hold in my heart,
attested by Thy Husband Siva;
I shall sue Thee, if I must,
and with a single point shall win.

If Thou dost oppose me,
Thou wilt learn what sort of mother’s son I am.
This bitterly contested suit between the Mother and Her son –
What sport it is! says Ramprasad.
I shall not cease tormenting Thee
Till Thou Thyself shall yield the fight
and take me in Thine arms at last.

O Kali, my Mother full of Bliss!
Enchantress of the almighty Siva!
In Thy delirious joy Thou dancest,
clapping Thy hands together!
Eternal One! Thou great First Cause,
clothed in the form of the void!
Thou wearest the moon upon Thy brow.
Where didst Thou find Thy garland of heads
before the universe was made?
Thou art the Mover of all that move,
and we are but Thy helpless toys;
We move alone as Thou movest us
and speak as through us Thou speakest.
But worthless Kamalakanta says,
fondly berating Thee:
Confoundress! With Thy flashing sword
Thoughtlessly Thou hast put to death
my virtue and sin alike!

The black bee of my mind is drawn in sheer delight
To the blue lotus flower of Mother Shyama’s feet,
The blue flower of the feet of Kali, Siva’s consort;
Tasteless, to the bee, are the blossoms of desire.
Mt Mother’s feet are black, and black, too, is the bee;
Black is made one with black! This much of the mystery
My mortal eyes behold, then hastily retreat.
But Kamalakanta’s hopes are answered in the end;
He swims in the Sea of Bliss, unmoved by joy or pain.

Taking the name of Kali, dive deep down, O mind,
Into the heart’s fathomless depths,
Where many a precious gem lies hid.
But never believe the bed of the ocean bare of gems
If in the first few dives you fail;
With firm resolve and self-control
Dive deep and make your way to Mother Kali’s realm.

Down in the ocean depths of heavenly Wisdom lie
The wondrous pearls of Peace, O mind;
And you yourself can gather them,
If you but have pure love and follow the scriptures’ rule,
Within those ocean depths, as well,
Six alligators lurk – lust, anger, and the rest –
Swimming about in search of prey.
Smear yourself with the turmeric of discrimination;
The very smell of it will will shield you from their jaws.

Upon the ocean bed lie strewn
Unnumbered pearls and precious gems;
Plunge in, says Ramprasad, and gather up handfuls there!

Once for all, this time,
I have thoroughly understood;
From One who knows it well,
I have learnt the secret of bhava.
A man has come to me from a country
where there is no night,
And now I cannot distinguish
day from night any longer;
Rituals and devotions have all grown profitless for me.

My sleep is broken;
how can I slumber any more?
For now I am wide awake
in the sleeplessness of yoga.
O Divine Mother,
made one with Thee in yoga-sleep at last,
My slumber I have lulled asleep for evermore.

I bow my head, says Prasad,
before desire and liberation;
Knowing the secret that Kali
is one with the highest Brahman,
I have discarded, once for all,
both righteousness and sin.


4. ASANA

(Instrumental)