TAGORE AS A SYMBOLIST

Symbolism is the most vital part of literature. It makes the language rich,
elegant and expressive. It expresses even the inexpressible sensation in a very
convenient way. A work of art without proper symbolism is as worthless as a flower
without fragrance. However, rich and profound a thought may be, it has a very little
significance in the realm of art and literature unless it is woven into the fabric of
images and symbols, rhythm and music. History is replete with instances that most of
the poets thrived and rose of eminence with the help of putting the thoughts into the
pattern of images and symbols.
Tagore’s Gitanjali shows, apart from many other things a fine use of apt
symbolism which is a unique blend of mysticism and music, religion and poetry.
Suffused with mystical imagination and aided by the free flowing movement, the
book creates a universe of haunting beauty that expresses God’s finite love and
humanity’s deep compassion for all things beautiful. Though the poet is amply
influenced by the rich symbolism and profound thoughts of the Vedas and the
Upanishads, this thought had “its root in the ancient wisdom of his land, but it is as
different from the roots as the blossom is from the roots of the tree on which it
appears.” (Ayyub, p, viii) K.R.S. Iyengar has also rightly observed: “The current coin
of India’s devotional poetry is melted and minted anew by Rabindranath, but the pure
gold shines, as brightly as ever, even though the inscription on the coin is in English.”
(110)
Symbolism is an integral part of a work of art. It helps the author in fusing his
sense perceptions, his emotions and his thoughts into an organic expression.
Sometimes the symbolism of the book is so powerfully employed that it works not
only as a symbol of this or that thing but it also plays the role of the structural unifier
turning the work as a dramatic whole.
Most of the images of Gitanjali diffuse the aroma of age-old Indian tradition
of rich imagery, particularly of the nature imagery. His images are not complex and
remote like those of the Metaphysical poets, but they are as simple and easy to
understand as those of the Romantic poets. It is very near to what H. Coombes holds
the view:
“In a good writer’s hands, the image, fresh and vivid is at its fullest used to
intensify, to clarify, to enrich; a successful image helps to make us feel the
writer’s grasp of the object or situation he is dealing with, gives his grasp of it
with precision, vividness, force, economy; and to make such an impact on us,
its content, the stuff or which it made, cannot be unduly fantastic and remote
from our experience, but must be such that it can be immediately felt by us as
belonging in one way or another to the fabric of our own lives.” (54)
The book, Gitanjali opens with the image of a ‘frail vessel’ which suggests the
empty and destitute life of a man. The empty vessel of man longs for the rain of love,
grace and sympathy of the Omnipotent God so that the empty vessel may overflow
with new the fresh life: “This frail vessel though emptiest again and again, and fillest
it ever with fresh life.” (Gitanjali, 1) Through this image the poet means to suggest
that life without the grace or rain of God is as worthless as a pitcher without water.
Unless God showers love to this empty pitcher, we cannot gain perfectness; we cannot
see him face to face. Commenting on this opening image, Iyengar observes:
“The human body is the temple of the soul; the human soul is the temple of
God. The human soul is naught unless it is inhabited or ‘filled’ by the spirit.
Birth and death are but the feeling and the emptying of the soul by the spirit,
 and the individual – insignificant as he may seem to be – verily partakes of
God’s endless life. His immortality.” (111)
We also see the image of vessel in the Song no. LXXIV where the
Poet is very curious to feel the pitcher of his life with the stream of love and devotion:
“The day is no more; the shadow is upon the earth. It is time that I go to the stream to
fill my pitcher.” The poet here is eagerly seen filling the empty pitcher with virtuous
activities. The poet is always afraid that one day when the terrible Death knocks at
his door, he will be able to welcome the Guest with the full vessel of the long
cherished good life. The poet says: “Oh, I will set before my guest the full vessel of
my life – I will never let him to go with empty hands”. (Song XC)
The other powerful image which merit our attention much is the image of
flute. To some extent, this image seems to be just the imagistic variation upon the
image of vessel. Man's life has been compared to a flute, "The music that flows on
the lips and breathes through the flute is nothing but God's grace and love. The flute
without music is as insignificant as life without harmony and music of God. It is God
who provides this perennial source of music to the poor flute: "This little flute of a
reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies
eternally new." (Song I). The image of flute reminds us of Lord Sri-Krishna who used
to shower the rain of melodies on the bank of the river, Yamuna. It is also akin to P.B.
Shelley's famous lines in Ode to the West wind:
"Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my loves are falling like its own!" (297)
The image of lyre in Gitanjali is so beautifully woven into the fabric of the
book that it always comes back and forth like that of Shakespeare. The image of harp
or lute occurs in the following lines:
a) At every footfall of yours, will not the harp of the road break out in sweet
music of pain? (Song LV).
b) There at the fording in the little boat the unknown man plays upon his lute
(Song LXXIV).
c) Deity of the ruined temple! The broken strings of Vina sing no more your
praise (Song LXXXVIII).
d) I shall tune it to the notes of forever, when it has sobbed out its last
utterance, lay down my silent harp at the feet of the silent. (Song C).
Music is one of the keynotes of Gitanjali. By the term 'music', the poet means
not simply the earthly or the heard melodies but also the music of the soul which
tingles the heart to its highest percipience. It becomes resonant only when it comes in
contact with God, the permanent source of the eternal music. The poet thinks that
God can be felt only through the music of the soul. When the heart is filled with the
music of love, devotion and virtuous thoughts, it begins to sing like the skylark of
Shelley in the open sky. To Tagore, only through the melodious music of the soul, can
one have the glimpse of the Inner Self which is nothing but God:
"I know thou take pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer 1 come before
thy presence. I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet
which I could never aspire to reach" (Song II).
John Keats, the great Romantic poet also wants to attain the world of the bird,
that is, the world of art, beauty and immortality. Tagore takes the help of music, but
Keats, 'viewless wings of poesy':
"Away away for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards
But on the viewless wings of Poesy
 Though the dull brain perplexes and retards." (Keats, 249)
The poet is of the view that when a man's dress of desire is purged in the fire
of purity, chastity and creativity, his heart becomes resonant with the eternal music:
"He came when the night was still, he had his harp in his hands and my dreams
become resonant with its melodies." (Song XXVI)
As a matter of fact, the immortal soul is always cheerful within. This is why it knows
no happiness expect its own happiness. It has nothing to do with the materialistic
achievements on this mortal earth. It only hears the silent steps of God:
"Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their notes have always
proclaimed, 'He comes comes, ever comes." (Song (XLV).
Gitanjali is also abundant with the image of flower which is artistically used in
various ways. In the song VI, it symbolizes the transitory nature of man's life. Our
life is as beautiful as a flower, but at the same time, it is short lived. So, the poet feels
that the flower of the life must be timely plucked in the service of God lest it 'droop and
drop on the dust':
“Though it colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this flower in thy
service and pluck it while there is time."(Song VI).
Robert Herrick also compares the instability and shortness of life to that of a
flower that fades away so soon. He opines:
"We have short time to stay, as you
We have as short as spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay
As you, or any thing." (92)
In the Song XLI, the image of flower has assumed a metaphysical dimension.
The poet observes: "I wait here weary hours spreading my offerings for thee, while
passers-by come and take my flowers, one by one and my basket is nearly empty." On
the connotative plane, the basket of flowers suggests the body of human being which
possesses so many virtuous things. The man wants to offer these gifts to God. But
unfortunately these flowers are snatched by the passers by. To me, the word 'passersby'
suggests those evil elements which prevent the good elements from merging into the
Infinite. But God is so merciful that he is ever ready to pay His constant heed to the
devotees: "One plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the world, and with a
flower for a prize you came down and stopped at my cottage door." (Song XLIX).
Moreover, it is God who nourishes 'seeds into sprouts, buds into blossoms, and
ripening flowers into fruitfulness'. So, the flowers of this earth are eager to perform their
last but perfect tribute to the service of God: "The flower sweetens the air with its
perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to thee." (Song LXXV). Figuratively 'the
flowers' suggest the creative and positive deeds of human being ever curious to abide by
the dictation of the soul.
The image of dress or ornament is richly influenced by most of the images of
the saint poet Kabir who compares the body to a dress or 'chadaria' given by God. Tagore
believes that wealth and ornaments are great obstacle in the pat of the man's relationship
with God: "Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me;
their jingling would drawn thy whispers." (Song VII). He develops the same idea in the
next song VIII with some imagistic variations. He says that the child decked with
princely robes with costly and weighty ornaments generally loses all the pleasures of
playing. He is always afraid of being stained with dust. In the song XXIV, the poet
maintains that we all are the travellers to the great pilgrimage. In this tiresome
travelling, one's garment is bound to be torn and tattered: "whose garment is torn and
dustladen". (Song XXIV). Here the word 'torn garment' reminds us of Yeats's "tattered
coat upon the stick" (425) and the famous discourse of Lord Srikrishna in Srimad
Bhagavat Gita. Lord Srikrishna says: "Just a man gives up old garment and puts on new
ones, so the embodied self abandons decrepit bodies and assumes new ones." (50)
Door is one of the powerful images of Gitanjali. It is a recurrent image which
always comes back and forth. Like Kabir, Tagore seems to fling a mild irony on the
hypocritical and superficial chanting and singing of God's name hundred times. So, the
poet asks the devotee to open the gate of his own soul which is the abode of God. God is
not found in the lifeless statues and temples but His abode is in the inner Chamber of the
immortal soul. He is also found In the labouring masses who pour their sweats in the
performance of their duties: "He is their sweats in the performance of their duties: "He is
there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where the path maker is breaking
stones. He is with them in sun and in shower and his garment is covered with dust."
(Song XI). The door in the poem is highly suggestive. It suggests not the general door of a
house but the invisible door of Spirit. Some beautiful lines containing the image of door
in the book:
a) Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors
all shut (Song XI).
b) I have no sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and look out of the
darkness (Song XXIII).
c) Let me sleep undisturbed even if my Lord comes of a sudden to my door
(Song XLVII).
d) When one knows thee, then alien there is none, then no door is shut (Song
LXIII).

The image of 'fire' is interestingly noteworthy. The poet holds the view that we
all are burning with the fire of desire. Well, desire, the cause of all mortal ills is no less
than fire: "Light, Oh where is the light! Kindle it with the burning fire of desire." (Song
XXVII). It is interesting to note here that the use of the phrase 'fire' by Tagore is
somewhat different from that of Sarojini Naidu's famous poem, "A Soul's Prayer". In
Tagore, the desire of man is just like fire capable of burning all the virtuous qualities of a
man. But Sarojini Naidu thinks that both pain and love act like fire or flame in a man's
life. They have power to kill the 'dross of desire':
"And love shall burn thee like a fire
Again pain shall cleanse thee like a flame
To purge the dross from thy desire." (Naidu, 16)
W.B. Yeats also appropriately uses the image of 'fire' in Sailing to Byzantium: The
poet strongly yearns for the purgation of desire:
"O sages standing in God's holy fire,
As in the gold mosaic of a wall
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre
And be the singing masters of my soul." (425)

The images of dust, darkness and shroud very beautifully weave the texture of the
poem. They are symbolic of the mundane and materialistic attainments that create
hurdles in the path of the virtuous soul. They suggest the fret, the fever, miseries and
weariness of human life. The poet feels: "The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust
and death; I hate it, yet hug it in love" (Song XXVIIII). Now the question is: Why is it
that the poet, through hates the shroud or dust, yet loves it. This line contains a paradox.
The poet is aware that suffering or for that matter, death and darkness, are part and
parcel of life. Death is as important as life. In our life, it is suffering that purifies the
impurities of the mind and the body. It ennobles a man and teaches him to face the
dark aspects of life. Perhaps this is why the tragic heroes of Shakespeare are often
seen suffering deeply and thereby learning.
Moreover, the song XXIX beautifully connotes the word 'dust' which suggests the
impurities of life: "I am ever busy building this wall around; and as this wall goes up into
the sky, day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark shadow. I take pride in this
great wall, and I plaster it with dust and sand." Indeed, it is the dust or darkness that
stands like a great wall between the true soul and the enthusiastic mind. It blinds the mind
with delusion. It creates a great chasm between man and God, heart and mind. Vaughan
rightly observes:
"When this dust falls to the urn
In that state I came return." (65)
The image of silent steps abounds the book. Figuratively it suggests the silent,
unheard and the gentle voice of conscience—a voice that arises from the very core of the
heart; a voice that always guides and prevents the mind from committing unbecoming
acts. But unfortunately people seldom pay any heed to the silent knocks of God or
conscience. The poet says that he is so much enmeshed in the web of the mortal
pleasures or the materialistic things that he is unable to listen to the wise and healthy
suggestion of the soul: "I heard not thy steps as thou earnest." (Song LIX). As a matter
of fact it is very difficult to hear the steps of the soul particularly for a man whose heart is
impure and corrupt. The poet feels: "In the deep shadows of the rainy July, with secret
steps, thou walkest silent as night, eluding all watchers". (Song XXII). Though God's
steps are silent and secret and also very rare for a common man, yet for a great devotee,
they are always heard as visible. Those who have a strong belief in God, always think that
God's gentle steps are capable of creating joy and happiness: "In sorrow, after sorrow it is
his steps that press upon my heart, and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy
to shine." (5-XLV). So, only a man of great devotion who has nothing to do with the evils
of the world can feel the silent steps of the soul. Kathopanishad observes: "This self is
hidden in all things, it is not manifested. But subtle seers see him by their keen and
subtle intellects." (57)
The image of a beautiful woman is a bit related to the previous image of the
'gentle steps'. The poet has imagined the 'Spirit' of a man as a beautiful woman who
remains in the depth of the being. At the same time the beautiful lady may also be
read as the sum total of the activities of a virtuous soul which the devotee presents to
the Almighty God. The poet philosophizes: "She who ever had remained in the depth
of my being, in the twilight of gleams and glimpses; she who never opened her veils in
the morning light, will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song" (Song
LXVI). Moreover, the beautiful lady also seems to be the personification of art and
beauty which is to be presented in the fold of the poet's final song. One of the divine
features of this beauty queen is that she can't be wooed by words alone: "Words have
wooed yet failed to win her; persuasion has stretched to her its eager arms in vain."
The phrase 'words' suggests here the superficial and the theoretical knowledge of our
great ethics and scriptures. However, rich our knowledge may be, we can't achieve it
unless we are free from desires and deadly sins. Tagore here seems to be influenced
by Kathopanishad which says: "This self is not attainable by teaching the Vedas, nor by
understanding, nor by great learning. It is attainable by him alone whom it chooses (for
self-manifestation). This Self reveals its body i.e., its nature of him." (51) In the Song
LXXXVII, Tagore reiterates the same thing imagining the soul as the enthusiastic and
agile woman: "In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corner of my room;
I find her not."
 The other noteworthy feature which Tagore points out regarding woman is her
aloneness and separation from the world of desires: "Over my thoughts and actions, my
slumbers and dreams, she reigned yet dwelled alone and apart." (Song LXVI).
The beautiful bride in the Song XCI is symbolic of the eternal and immortal soul.
This bride, decorated with flowers is very curious to meet her bridegroom, that is God,
alone in the solitude of night: "The flowers have been woven and the garland is ready
for the bridegroom. After the wedding, the bride shall leave her home and meet her lord
alone in the solitude of night."(Song XCI).
The book is beautifully studded with the image of journey. All human beings on
this mortal earth are the pilgrims or the travellers who are continuously and industriously
taking their voyages to the eternal home of God, their permanent home. The earth is
their sojourn. During the course of this sacred travelling, the traveller is bound to face
many trials and tribulations, cares and anxieties. But a true and devoted traveller never
minds the obstacles and hurdles of the path. His goal is only to reach the permanent
home where he can take eternal shelter and enjoy peace and happiness. The poet
concludes the book with the image of Journey: "Like a flock of homesick cranes flying
night and day back to their mountain nests let all my life take its voyage to its eternal
home in one salutation to these."
The poet uses an extended image of journey. He observes that the journey is very
long and the way of it is also very long and tiresome. This traveller is bound to go to
the innermost shrine of the eternal soul, the abode of God. For this he has to 'wander
through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end'. At the end of the
journey the traveller, though he is much exhausted and dust laden with torn garments,
finds an ever green peace and happiness'. All his shame and poverty and his frustrated
and tired life gets a new life "like a flower under the cover of thy kindly night'. Perhaps
this is why the poet has a firm belief when he takes his journey to God. He observes:
"When I sit by the roadside, tired and panting, when I spread my bed low in the dust, led
me ever feel that the long journey is still before me—let me not forget for a moment, let
me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours." (Song
LXXIX).
It is interesting to note that most of the images of Tagore are richly influenced by
our great epics and scriptures, Vedas and Upanishads. Tagore drank deep from the
wells of our rich heritage, particularly from the teachings of the Christian missionaries,
Brahmo Samaj, Bengal Vaishnav Singers, Kabir Das and Meera. Though he has taken
the bricks and stones and other building materials from them, yet he has created a
mansion entirely different full of beauty and grandeur, colour and crafts. Like
Shakespeare, he has turned the things into something new and unique with the help of
his extraordinary imagination and intellect. Tagore uses, as Dr. Radhakrishnan has
rightly observed, "the visible world as a means of shadowing forth the invisible" and
thereby taking interest in "touching the temporal with the light of the eternal." (137)
Dr. Narsingh Srivastava finds in Tagore a fine blending of both thought and
feeling:
"The greatness of Tagore as an Indo-Anglian poet is no doubt to be founding
the subtle yet simple thoughts of a mystic rather than the melody of words, and
an inner music born out of the harmony between the ideas and the balanced
cadences of verse libre' can easily be discovered in the English version by one
who can listen to the music of words along with his appreciations of the
sense."(55)
 Tagore takes his images generally from the familiar fields of life. They are so
simple that even a semi-literate man can also take pleasures. But some of them call for a
deeper insight to grasp their richness and complexities.
Thus, this brief analysis of Gitanjali tries to show that Tagore has used apt images
and symbols to convey his thoughts and feelings. We may very well sum up our
discussion with the following observations of W.B. Yeats:
“The work of a supreme culture, they yet appear as much the growth of the
common soil as the grass and the rushes. A tradition where poetry and religion
are the same thing, has passed through the centuries, gathering from learned and
unlearned metaphor and emotion, and carried back again to the multitude the
thought of the scholar and of the noble." (Introduction to Gitanjali, p.x)