Summary
The poem "Last Adornment" narrates a deep
philosophical journey of Prince Siddhartha as he stands on the brink of leaving
behind his royal life. The poem opens with the prince reflecting on the beauty
and richness of nature as dawn breaks, symbolizing a new beginning. Under the
cosmic presence of the Ashadha Purnima moon, the prince experiences a
revelation, spurred by an intense longing for knowledge. His heart is restless,
searching for truth, like a musk deer chasing an elusive scent.
In essence, "Last Adornment" captures the moment when Siddhartha renounces his princely life, recognizing that true fulfillment lies beyond material existence, in spiritual awakening and the transcendence of suffering.
The Poem
Lost in deep,
restless thoughts,
the young prince entered the forest.
Evening—
from the west, gazed silently, unblinking.
Its fragrant, dusky veil billowed,
held in both hands,
scattering hues of vibrant colors.
Dark, silky tresses danced in the wind,
a captivating sight,
charming, serene.
Like night-blooming tuberose,
a few stars scattered across the sky.
Alongside the Shakya princes,
engaged in sweet laughter,
Siddhartha descended.
In the clear, blue, water-filled lake,
even the sky, enchanted,
peered down,
reflected in the mirror of lotuses.
Amidst the water's embrace,
listening to the sweet melodies and rhythms.
The radiance of Ashadha Purnima scattered,
as the full moon ascended the sky.
Like a white lotus,
bathed in milky, pure moonlight,
it smiled,
gazing—
Has Varuna descended into the waters?
Or, within the universe's lotus web,
bound by the saffron threads,
has Anang arrived?
The moon,
with a thousand white hoods,
spreading nectar like a canopy overhead,
this unparalleled, infinite form descended,
to Earth, as Lord Bhuvanesh.
Nature's heart, drenched in its essence, trembled.
The waters shivered.
The sky shivered.
The forest, the groves, and the minds of people all
trembled.
In the silent strings of the world’s lute,
a soft hum arose,
a gentle melody.
Drawing a breath, Nature stood still,
watching with anxious gaze,
as destiny gave its nod.
In the water, Lord Narayan appeared,
as the sun turned northward.
Or perhaps, today,
the moon descended
into the eager arms of the ocean.
This form, boundless,
turned the universe into a tiny shell,
within which,
an unparalleled pearl,
gleamed brightly.
Across the worlds,
the ocean of beauty surged.
Divine brilliance,
heavenly radiance,
lit up His face,
where the glow of a sacred resolve shone,
like a guiding light.
Pearls cascaded in streams,
gathering on a crystal-white stone pedestal,
as a crowd of servants gathered around.
Today, majesty itself
was adorning the Lord.
As saffron touched His skin,
the body, bathed in sandalwood,
clung in reverence.
Fragrance spread, intoxicating the air,
swaying in every breath of wind.
Even stillness quivered—
why, no one knew.
All of nature pulsed with life.
Priceless, jewel-encrusted ornaments,
robes woven in gold,
draped Him from head to toe,
leaving no part untouched.
A gem-studded golden crown graced His head,
His arms adorned with boundless bracelets.
Around His neck,
a necklace of diamonds and pearls.
His dark curls glowed,
woven with golden pearls,
and hundreds of sparkling stones—
this, the final earthly adornment,
fell at His feet,
pleading for farewell,
offering all its grandeur and glory,
in a humble farewell.
As the prince placed his first step
onto the chariot, ready to depart for the city,
the moment his foot touched the chariot,
memories flooded back—
like a vivid reel of moving pictures,
recalling all that had passed.
The joy and radiance on his face
were once again shadowed
by dark clouds of sorrow,
as if
lightning had struck
from a rainbow-laden cloud.
The prince had never before
set foot on the royal road at dusk.
A commotion arose,
as if everyone rushed forth
just as they were.
On both sides,
lines of men and women formed.
In every home, in the gardens,
beautiful rows of lamps were lit.
The fragrant air
was filled with incense, smoke,
and the scent of flowers.
Whether it was morning, afternoon,
noon, or evening—
Kapilavastu,
the royal city,
was always adorned in beauty.
With each hour,
it chose a new form.
Today,
the city,
in all its glory,
bore the jewel of its crown—
the prince—
with pride and joy.
Someone spoke,
in a voice soft and tender,
overflowing with affection:
“Blessed is the mother,
blessed is the father,
blessed is the woman
whose destiny is fulfilled.”
“Blessed is that mother,
who has such a son.
Blessed is the father,
who has received such a son as his.
And blessed is the woman,
who has such a husband.”
The prince, hearing this,
stopped the chariot,
remembering the emotional words
of the slender, lovely Gautami,
who, like a graceful swan,
spoke with heartfelt emotion.
He smiled at her
and asked,
“O gentle one,
in whose contentment
does the mind find peace?”
With a soft smile,
Gautami replied,
“When the mind’s desires are calmed,
all faults die away.
The tendencies of the mind are its flaws.
When they are subdued,
delusion is dispelled.”
Delusion!
The root of all flaws.
When the mind uproots it,
ego naturally subsides.
The "I"—
the driving force of all creation.
A universal pull,
where all desires converge.
When this "I" is shattered,
awareness awakens from its slumber.
Awareness—
it opens the doors to wisdom.
And wisdom,
with fervor,
beckons faith.
It slices through the thorny web of logic,
and on faith’s elevated throne
rests a steady flame of light—
unwavering, still,
radiating far and wide,
a cool, eternal glow.
Perpetual bliss.
Immovable faith.
This is what they call—
Liberation. Nirvana.
This, ultimately, is the welfare of humankind.
The prince looked at her with a smile,
a wave of joy surged in his eyes.
She—
the unblemished, radiant Shakya maiden—
had poured cool nectar
on his burning, tormented heart.
A figure of beauty and knowledge,
illuminated by the sacred dignity
of her spiritual insight.
With great respect, the prince
removed from his neck
the precious pearl necklace
and, considering her his first teacher,
offered it as a token of gratitude.
She, the maiden,
accepted the string of pearls
in her cupped hands,
but her heart was no longer in her control.
Overwhelmed by the experience of beauty,
her body trembled with indescribable emotion.
Awestruck, enchanted,
she gazed upon the prince's divine, infinite form,
her heart pounding with emotions unknown.
The chariot moved on,
raising clouds of dust,
while Gautami's mind
whirled in a mist of thoughts.
Today,
was no ordinary day.
The prince,
retreating to his chambers,
wandered in silence.
In the garden,
worldly beauty had adorned him
with the pinnacle of physical splendor.
Yet those royal ornaments,
felt like an unbearable weight on his body.
And his mind—
it bore an even heavier burden,
an inescapable sorrow.
Beneath the sky of a grief-stricken mind,
his emotions sat silently,
bowed before the tomb of pained memories.
Consciousness, restless and shattered, lay numb.
But today,
the slender, graceful Gautami
had adorned his mind.
She dressed it with lofty thoughts,
and garlanded it with sublime reflections.
His mind,
now open to a new, limitless horizon,
clothed itself
in the seven colors of liberation.
He smiled.
The dawn broke,
bringing with it the golden morning.
In the east,
the glow of dawn spread.
In his eyes,
a radiant light bloomed,
and the prince found
a new thread of life.
His gaze searched elsewhere.
Today—
on this Ashadha Purnima, under the Pushya star,
the bright, silvery moon bathed the earth,
everywhere,
thousands of lotus flowers bloomed,
vessels of wisdom filled with light,
and a gentle fragrance of immortal nectar.
The prince's heart,
blinded by the thirst for knowledge,
searched in desperation—
where is the scent,
the musk deer in distress?
In the hands of a knowledge-thirsty heart,
Gautami, frail yet wise,
offered the nectar of truth,
quenching the thirst.
"Drink it deep,
to your heart's content.
Once fully satisfied,
find your true identity.
This luxury,
this royal environment,
is not the essence of life.
Man—
he is himself a sacred message.
In all creation,
his uniqueness shines bright.
Yet,
why does this world seem like a prison?
It’s only endless pain,
boundless suffering.
Why does every joy
cast a shadow of sorrow?
Though we know,
why does the mind,
enchanted and bewildered,
forcefully accept it?
Why has man
not yet escaped,
liberated himself?
Why? Why? Why?
Why this agony of experience?
Why does the heart ache,
the body tremble,
drawn into waves
of overwhelming, inexplicable pain?
Why does despair,
like a dark storm,
pour its rain?
The heart,
ever alert,
cannot be saved suddenly—
only grief.
What the blind mind calls joy
is nothing but blow after blow
of unforeseen sorrow.
The soul can no longer bear
this unbearable burden.
Gone is all color—
illusions shattered.
Destroyed are all desires,
the waves of lust that once stirred the mind.
Now,
the mind stands silent, alone,
in still solitude.
He saw—
the circle of childhood,
lifeless and fearless,
and standing proudly upon it,
rooted firmly,
was youth,
an Ashoka tree, adorned with burning embers,
full of arrogance.
And then—
the snake of old age,
its poisonous hissing flames
ravaging it,
turning it into its prey.
Under the cold, snowy sheet of death,
lay all desires—
lifeless,
their eyes shut tight.
Cursed be life!
Cursed be life!
A wildfire of sorrow,
every breath
a stamp of death’s certainty.
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