...After Reading the Upanishads

Out of the dusky chamber of the brain
Flows the imperial Will through dream on dream:
The fires of life around it tempt and gleam;
The lights of earth behind it fade and wane.
 
Passed beyond beauty tempting dream on dream,
The pure Will seeks the heart-hold of the light:
Sounds the deep OM, the mystic word of might:
Forth from the heart-hold breaks the living stream.
 
Passed out beyond the deep heart music-filled,
The kingly Will sits on the ancient throne,
Wielding the sceptre, fearless, free, alone,
Knowing in Brahma all it dared and willed.

A.E. Russell is such a poet whom the world could not know, feel, not even in the colonial India, what it lay in him and his poetry laden with the strokes and tolls of Upanishads, Veda and Puranic studies wrung deep into his poetry. A great poet from Ireland, he was a votary of India and Indian culture. So Vedic, Upanishadic and Puranic, he was really cutting the golden ribbons of poetry ahead of time and age. When we read him, the bell tolls, the clock strikes us, the winds carry it the Upanishadic verses sung afar during the holy services.

Even those who are on the boards of studies in India or make the syllabuses do not know and fail to include him for the studies of English language and literature. I do not know if he has been prescribed anywhere in India. A poet of golden breath and divine vision, he is really unique in his poetic stance and stature. To read him is to feel the breath whispering slowly with the closed eyes, Om, the breath inhaled and exhaled slowly in a meditational posture. To read him is to feel the creation of Brahma; to see the splendor and sweetness of the creator.

A.E. Russell has penned the poem Magic after going through the Upanishads and their impact as the reference to it says it clearly at the start of the poem how he has taken to it, how he has enumerated and elucidated. The magic and the charm of the Upanishads it is a wonder to feel it. There is something like Will which is behind it all and is the source of all creative energy. Imperial Will is behind the dusky chamber of the brain. The fires of life tempt and gleam around it; the lights of earth fade and wane behind it.

Passing beyond beauty, tempting dream on dream, Pure Will seeks to take hold of the heart filled with light and breathes it deep, Om, the mystic word of might and breaks the living stream of thought and idea.

Passing beyond the deep heart filled with music, Kingly Will sits on the ancient throne wielding the scepter, free, alone and fearless which is but the creation of Brahma. Everything that one sees is Brahma-made. Try to feel the blooming lotus. Let our beginnings be blessed with the blessings of Brahma. Let Brahma be in all our benedictions.

The magic of the Upanishads he brings it into his verse; the incantation of its mystic language which does it the rounds. Leaving it all, how does Om give solace, peace and rest to the languishing soul, shanti to the mind transpiring?

To read him is to understand what is Om in Mundaka Upanishad, what is Om in Taittiriya Upanishad, what is Om in Chandogya Upanishad?