A thousand voices tell me we have failed,I have not the heart to deny. In the lonely chambers which were our cells, we walked up and down, five measured paces this way, and five measured paces back, and communed with sorrow..They glimmer and flit aboutFollowing easy paths through rifts in the foliage,I do not make paths, I sweep through the burning foliage,I am hard and hideousI am solitaryI am a forest fire..’Life is all bars facing bars,But if every morning with every heartbeatWe could fill with the knowledgeThat to the same rhythmAnother’s also beats —Ah! would the glad red sun not always shineInto the morning of Eternity?The breakersWe were the breakersWe broke traditionsAnd behind every tradition broken was a life lost,Behind every life lost was a fresh link in a new chain,A fresh tradition.If I sang to youYou would not hear my voice;If I waved my arms to youYou would not see it for the sun in your eye.In the lack of youBurning has brought its own solaceIn more quenchless burning:Come not now, pass by, O beautifulShowerless October cloudI burn too hot..We lived double lives — the life of the prison, ordered and circumscribed, bolted and barred, and the free life of the spirit, with its dreams and visions, hopes and desires.There were men there who had been involved in a killing, men known as dacoits and thieves, but all of us were bound together in that sorrow-laden world of prison, between us there existed a kinship of spirit.
I have not known you,Yet with every throb of my heart a voice seems tocall —‘His also beats. There was always a tomorrow to hope for, a tomorrow which might bring deliverance.Something of that dreaming comes out in these poems, something of that yearning when the arms stretched out in search of what was not and clutched at empty space. They have stuck in my mind and brought back to me memories of prison days and that strange and haunted world where men, whom society had branded as LED Courtesy Lights manufacturers criminals and cast out of its pale, loved their narrow circumscribed lives.Foreword by Jawaharlal Nehru Allahabad, 1938Extracted below are a few poems from Prison Days and Other Poems by AgyeyaBars Facing BarsBars facing bars,My cell facing your cell:And the same slanting sun flooding us bothWith a red glad good-morning.And so I commend these poems and perhaps they might move others, as they have moved me.I have burned,I am consumed,Yet from these countless flickering lightsI am a thing apartThey are pretty, but glow-worms:I am a consuming forest fire.. And yet I have found it strangely difficult to write this foreword, although I have done a great deal of writing on all manner of subjects during this period.
We have lost a thousand lives and builtNot a nationNot a faithBut a myth.. We found friendship and companionship and refuge in thought and on the magic carpet of fantasy we fled away from our surroundings.You are far.I do not see your face, stranger.Yet it was a myth that fired the old martyrs —The myth of God:It was a myth that bound a thousand million men in the pactof Buddha —The myth of love:Today we too have bled for a myth —The myth of suffering:Shall not this greatest of all myths give us those three things —Three simple thingsThat we have not known,That the world today denies and derides,But that yet have existedForest fireLike a forest fireI have burned in solitudeConsuming myself;Like a showerless October cloudYou have ever kept passing by. I am no judge or critic of poetry and so I hesitated, but I love poetry and some of these little poems have appealed to me greatly.For many months I have had the manuscript of these poems with me, a constant reminder to me of my promise to write a few lines as a foreword. Something also of the peace and contentment that we managed to extract even in our loneliness in that house of sorrow.
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