The Touch of Nectar

I woke very early in the morning. Looking out through the window, I saw a sliver of moon still awake behind veils of mist, counting the hours of late night's watch, while countless shiuli blossoms had spread their carpet across the earth's breast; at that time I heard the sound of falling dew, drip by drip.

I came outside; stepping across the wet grass, walking past the shiuli tree, I came to stand in the grove of deodars. In the sweet light of dawn, a small yellow bird welcomed me with an intoxicating song, blue lightning glimmering on its wings. Chandana had brought God's blessing that day, bringing life itself to resurrection. I fell in love with Chandana and was enchanted by her song. She who was friends with the young sun—that small messenger who came to deliver good tidings—I invited her into my own heart.

I said, O messenger of life, today wash me clean in this cascade of light. With the sweetness you have given by emptying your vessel of life, let my breast be drenched in that flowing bath. Accept me into your heart. At the end of household duties, at day's end in the twilight hour, I stood at the window. At just such a time, I heard the song again.

A man emerged from the deodar grove; he wore strange clothing, a bow and arrows hung from his shoulder, red feathers stuck in his hair. The man was singing.
 
A song of triumph. Suddenly I was startled to see—in his hand was my little bird Chandana, blood dripping from her back, her eyes closed—the life of morning had been extinguished, light had turned to darkness.

The hunter hummed his song. A song of bloodlust, a song of killing. In every step was the joy of his victory.

I stood alone watching this scene. My eyes filled with tears. My Chandana sang me one more song with her final breath—a song of death, which brought death's echo to life's threshold.
In my heart I prayed, O my Chandana, I seek from you the strength to bear death's coldness, when death comes dancing her anklets at my door, then awaken my life's melody in its highest note, so that in that song I may glimpse liberation.

O Chandana, from within my pain-torn breast you have brought tear-soaked joy today into the midst of ineffable sweetness. That is why, in sorrow's churning force, I have received today the rare touch of nectar.