Inspiration: Beyond The Placid, Winding River  

By RUSKIN BOND  

Inspiration: Beyond The Placid, Winding River  

"If there be a heaven on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this!"

These words are inscribed over the entrance to the Hall of Special Audience, in the royal gardens of the Red Fort of Delhi, built by Emperor Shah Jehan in the 17th century.

It is a beautiful pavilion, the walls inlaid with jade and other semi-precious stones; and from the latticed windows one can see the waters of the river Jamuna winding placidly across the plain.

In Shah Jehan's time, the river ran much closer to the fort, and I like to think that the emperor, when he found time to be alone, strolled along the ramparts of his palace while it was being built; and that one evening, while he gazed at the river, something happened to make him feel at peace with the world, and he was so moved by the moment and everything associated with it, that he decided to build his private pavilion at that spot, inscribing on it those imperishable lines:

"If there be a heaven on earth, it is this, it is this..."

Such moments come to most of us - moments when we feel deeply moved or inspired, moments when time seems to stand still, so that we may savour and cherish and preserve in our minds that fleeting glimpse of eternity.

Such moments come but rarely, these small miracles - raindrops on a sunflower, or the fragrance of the first summer rain on parched earth, the song of the whistling-thrush emerging like a sweet secret from a dark forest. Or the joy after hearing a child'slaughter: Moments when heaven is here, compensating for the irritations and petty disasters that we create around ourselves each day. And when all the wars are done, a butterfly will still be beautiful.

When I was only 17, I wanted desperately to be a writer. My early efforts did not meet with much success, and there was no one to encourage me or raise my flagging spirits. At the time I was living with relatives in Jersey, one of the Channel islands, and earning three pounds a week as a clerk in a grocery store.

Late one evening, when I was feeling particularly discouraged, I went for a walk along the seafront. The tide was in, the sea was rough; and the wind, which was almost a gale, came pouring out of the darkness like a mad genie just released from his bottle. Great waves crashed against the sea-wall, and the wind whipped the salt spray across my face. I felt like a small bird caught up in a tempest.

And then something touched me, something from the elements took hold of my heart, and the depression left me and I felt as free and powerful as the wind - quite capable of building my own fort, my own private pavilion of words. And I spoke to the genie in the swirling darkness and called out: "Yes, I will be a writer, and no one's going to stop me!"

Well, more than 40 years on, the writing is still happening, and at times it's still a struggle. But whenever I feel like giving up, I try to recapture that moment when earth and sea and sky were all one; and then the writing begins again. There are no fresh starts in life, but there are always new directions.

Time, place and emotion must coalesce, hence the rarity of such occasions. Delight cannot be planned for - she makes no appointments! Almost always, it's the unexpected that brings us joy. It may only be a shaft of sunlight, slanting through the pillars of a banyan tree; or dewdrops caught in a spider's web; or, in the stillness of the mountains, the sudden chatter of a mountain stream as you round the bend of a hill. Or an emperor's first glimpse of a winding river and the world beyond.

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More from same author see: RUSKIN BOND  

See also: Inspiration, Faith and Belief, Spiritual Guidance, God and Religion, Peace on Earth, Peace of Mind, Love and Happiness, Life and Beyond, Body Mind and Soul)