In Sanskrit, a poet or a kavi is a seer. A poet-seer is one who sees that which is beyond what the eyes can palpably see and then interprets for the world what he has seen in his own words. In this poem, Darshanam (Vision), the poet is neither his
romantic, nor his technocratic self. Here he turns into a seer who sees within
himself, with his inner eye, the entire world. And the outer world does not
charm him anymore.
The poet compares the external world
with the newly discovered world within himself. The reader in him wonders what
could be the use of any book when there is an inexhaustible treasury of
knowledge within him. Why would he listen to songs when there is an ocean of
music heaving inside him? Can the art that he sees outside compare with the
inexplicable world of colours that fills his mind’s eye?
Why would there be poesy when his mind is an overflowing pool of poetic nectar, the poet asks? What is a flickering lamp as opposed to the light within his soul which equals that of a thousand suns? The akshayapatra with its unending supply of food; the Lord of Medicine with his divine elixir of life, Sanjeevani; the Vrindavan wherein resides the Lord of Vaikuntha; the wealth-creating gem, Syamantaka; the grantor of desires, Nandini, the celestial cow; and the wish-fulfilling Kalpaka tree – he finds them all in the world within him. Now what more would he wish for when the divine light fills his soul? And, no, there’s no room for sorrow when the Lord reigns within him, filling him with ecstasy.
The message of the poem is the same as
what the sages and the seers have been teaching us from the days of yore – to
turn our eyes inward to discover the Ultimate Truth. The poet interprets in
his own words, in his own way. No beauty in this world is as ravishing, no
pleasure as delightful, and no knowledge as absolute as the Truth once you are
aware of It.
True to his poem, the poet hardly wrote any poetry during his last years. Nothing in this world inspired him anymore, he said. Yet, poetry still remained closest to his heart. Perhaps it sufficed for him to revel in “the overflowing pool of poetic nectar” within his soul. That was his muse. That, also, was his poetry. Eventually, the poet himself merged with his poetry.
Krishnakumar Varma’s soft, lilting rendition of the poem carries the beauty of the lines in all their simplicity and sublimity.
SW · Darshanam | K. T. Krishna Variar | Krishnakumar Varma | PC: Gerd Altmann - Pixabay
ദർശനം
പുസ്തകശേഖരമെന്തിന്നറിവിൻ്റെ
അക്ഷയഭണ്ഡാരമുള്ളിലില്ലേ?
ഗാനമെന്തിന്നു മധുരസപ്തസ്വര-
സാഗരമുള്ളിൽ തിരയടിക്കേ?
എന്തിനു ചിത്രങ്ങൾ വാചാമഗോചര-
വർണ്ണസാമ്രാജ്യമകത്തിരിയ്ക്കേ?
കാവ്യമെന്തിന്നു കവിതാമൃതത്തിൻ്റെ
മാനസപ്പൊയ്ക കവിഞ്ഞൊലിയ്ക്കേ?
അമ്പലമെന്തിന്നു വൈകുണ്ഠനാഥനീ
വൃന്ദാവനത്തിൽ വിളങ്ങിടുമ്പോൾ?
വിത്തമിന്നെന്തിനായ് രത്നങ്ങൾ കായ്ക്കുന്ന
കല്പകപാദപമിങ്ങുള്ളപ്പോൾ?
ഔഷധമെന്തിനു സഞ്ജീവനിയേകു-
മോഷധീനാഥനുമുള്ളിലില്ലേ?
ആയിരമർക്കന്മാരുള്ളിൽ പ്രകാശിക്കേ
ദീപനാളങ്ങളിന്നെന്തിനായി?
അന്നമെനിക്കെന്തിനക്ഷയപാത്രമീ
നെഞ്ചിലിരിപ്പുണ്ടനശ്വരമായ്
മന്ദാരത്തോപ്പും സ്യമന്തകരത്നവും
നന്ദിനിപ്പയ്യുമകത്തുണ്ടല്ലോ.
ഒന്നും വേണ്ടൊന്നും വേണ്ടുള്ളിലീസ്വർഗ്ഗീയ-
ദിവ്യചൈതന്യം പരിലസിക്കേ
എന്തിനു ദുഃഖമെൻ നെഞ്ചിൽ വിരാജിക്കും
തമ്പുരാനാനന്ദമേകിടുമ്പോൾ?
©1990 KTK
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