But is there any need for me here?

Yes.

Then my quatrains----

_Chandra_

We shall colour your quatrains with such a thick brush, that no one will know whether they have any meaning at all.

And then you will be without any means.

The neighbourhood will desert you.

The Watchman will take you to be a fool.

And the Pundit will take you to be a blockhead.

And your own people will consider you to be useless.

And the outside people will consider you queer.

_Chandra_

But we shall crown you, Dada, with a crown of new leaves.

We shall put a garland of jasmine round your neck.

And there will be no one else except ourselves who will know your true worth.

THE SONG OF THE FESTIVAL OF SPRING

[_In which all the persons of the drama, not excepting Sruti-bhushan, unite on the main stage in the dance of Spring._]

_Come and rejoice, for April is awake.

Fling yourselves into the flood of being, bursting the bondage of the past.

April is awake.

Life's sh.o.r.eless sea is heaving in the sun before you.

All the losses are lost, and death is drowned in its waves.

Plunge into the deep without fear, with the gladness of April in your heart._