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Today, we are delighted to share selected writings by the Venerated Sri Aurobindo in His book “Love and Death.” The passage paints a powerful picture of death as a place of both anguish and potential redemption through the transformative power of love. “He down the gulf where the loud waves collapsed Descending, saw with floating hair arise The daughters of the sea in pale green light, A million mystic breasts suddenly bare, And came beneath the flood and stunned beheld A mute stupendous march of waters race To reach some viewless pit beneath the world. Ganges he saw, as men predestined rush Upon a fearful doom foreseen, so ran, Alarmed, with anguished speed, the river vast. Veiled to his eyes the triple goddess rose. She with a sound of water cried to him, A thousand voices moaning with one pain: ‘Lover, who feared not sunlight to leave, With me thou mayst behold that helpless spirit Lost in the gloom, if still thy burning bosom Have courage to endure great Nature's night In the dire lands where I, a goddess, mourn Hurting my heart with my own cruelty.’ […]” “There Ruru saw pale faces float of kings And grandiose victors and revered high priests And famous women. Now rose from the wave A golden shuddering arm and now a face. Torn piteous sides were seen and breasts that quailed. Over them moaned the penal waters on, And had no joy of their fierce cruelty. Then Ruru, his young cheeks with pity wan, Half moaned: ‘O miserable race of men, With violent and passionate souls you come Foredoomed upon the Earth and live brief days In fear and anguish, catching at stray beams Of sunlight, little fragrances of flowers, Then from your spacious Earth in a great horror Descend into this night, and here too soon Must expiate your few inadequate joys. O bargain hard! Death helps us not. He leads Alarmed, all shivering from his chill embrace, The naked spirit here. Oh my sweet flower, Art thou too whelmed in this fierce wailing flood? Ah me! But I will haste and deeply plunge Into its hopeless pools and either bring Thy old warm beauty back beneath the stars, Or find thee out and clasp thy tortured bosom And kiss thy sweet wrung lips and hush thy cries. Love shall draw half thy pain into my limbs; Then we shall triumph glad of agony.’ […]”
