Mâ, the Ancient One of evolution, leads Gringo on adventures through the past & future of the Earth, from the pre-human forest to the forest of tomorrow.
Un 'Livre de la Jungle' à l'envers. Non plus un petit d'homme qui revient à la vie animale, mais un autre petit d'homme dans une tribu sauvage de la forêt amazonienne, qui cherche comment on sort de la Tribu humaine et le passage de 'l'Homme après l'Homme'. C'est la légende de l'évolution et de l'Ancienne de l'évolution, figurée par la 'reine' de la tribu, qui entraîne Gringo à la découverte des aventures passées de la terre - en Egypte, dans l'Atlandide, en pays arctique -, et dans l'aventure de l'avenir de la terre, chaque fois forçant le barrage des défenseurs de la Loi établie, que ce soit celle des anciens initiés, celle de la Tribu amazonienne, celle des spiritualistes ou celle des biologistes du XXième siècle. Car chaque sommet atteint devient l'obstacle du prochain cycle. Successivement, Gringo passe par la 'porte de braise', la 'porte de jade', la 'porte bleu', la 'porte de neige', avant d'arriver à la 'porte noire' du XXIième siècle et à la 'minute nulle' où les hommes disent NON à leur loi suffocante et consentent à ouvrir 'les nouveaux yeux de la terre'. l'auteur évoque ici l'aventure qu'il a vécue dans la forêt vierge de Guyanne à l'âge de vingt-cinq ans, et l'aventure qu'il a vécue auprès de Sri Aurobindo et de Mère dans l'avenir de la terre : toute une courbe, de la forêt pré-humaine à la forêt mystérieuse de demain.
A 'Jungle Book' in reverse. No longer a young boy returning to animal life, but another young boy in a wild tribe of the Amazon rainforest, who seeks to discover how one escapes from the human Tribe and the passage of 'Man after Man.' This is the legend of evolution and of the Ancient One of evolution, represented by the 'queen' of the tribe, who leads Gringo on a journey of discovery through the past adventures of the earth — in Egypt, in Atlantis, in the Arctic lands — and into the adventure of the earth's future, each time forcing through the barrier of the defenders of the established Law, whether that of the ancient initiates, that of the Amazonian Tribe, that of the spiritualists, or that of the biologists of the 20th century. For every summit reached becomes the obstacle of the next cycle. Successively, Gringo passes through the 'gate of embers,' the 'gate of jade,' the 'gate of blue,' the 'gate of snow,' before arriving at the 'black gate' of the 21st century and at 'zero minute,' where men say NO to their suffocating law and consent to open 'the new eyes of the earth.' The author evokes here the adventure he lived in the virgin forest of Guyana at the age of twenty-five, and the adventure he experienced alongside Sri Aurobindo and 'Mother' in the future of the earth: an entire arc, from the pre-human forest to the mysterious forest of tomorrow.
XXV
GRINGO was walking toward the clearing — already he could hear the lamentations. And all of it seemed so futile to him, almost unreal, a kind of invented story, as if behind it there were something else, another story, and it is elusive. "There is the man after man," she had said. And suddenly Gringo had the impression that it was not "after," that it was not "out there" — it was there, behind... what? As one was there, behind a mirror of water for the pretty angefish of the emerald lake; there is another mirror... of what? Like a moment ago on that rock, something fleeting behind a silver mist — but it is there, it is THERE! It pulls. And perhaps one was like other fish, in a great lake of aquamarine and moving forests, for another Gringo who moved in a light air and in a story without sorrow?
What mirror? Where was the mirror? The smooth, clear surface one cannot see.
They arrived to the deep, plaintive sound of the great double flutes: two tireless notes flowing and creeping between the dense lianas. Night was falling. Groups of men and women murmured and lamented before Vrittru's hut. Ma's hut was set apart, almost at the forest's edge, behind the violet-wood. That was where Gringo wanted to go.
— Wait, murmured Rani.
But Gringo wasn't listening. He skirted the clearing, passed beyond the violet-wood.
— Hey! Gringo.
He turned. Already Vrittru was on him. Rani came running.
— Where are you going?
— To Her.
— No, you will not go to her.
— And why not?
There was such cold hatred in those eyes that Gringo gasped. Rani took his arm.
— You, little snake — go away. This is not your place. She straightened up and looked him straight in the eyes. He blinked. A rage seized him:
— No one goes to her.
— I will go, said Gringo.
He lunged towards the hut, stumbled on a stump — a sharp pain shot through his leg. Vrittru was already there, arms crossed over his belly, blocking the hut door.
— I said: no one. I give orders here.
— No, She does.
A cluster of chattering men and women gathered behind them. Then Brujos arrived, sluglike and bloated; Psilla, Brujos's wife, tall and straight, a toucan feather in her hair, watching the spectacle with a kind of delight. Vrittru was at his peak, strutting like a turkey in the farmyard.
— She has no more power, said Vrittru. She is old and senile.
Gringo grabbed Vrittru by his necklace. With a kick to the stomach, Vrittru sent him rolling three meters away.
— This time you'll get your lesson, mosquito. Gringo got up — he was in a white cloud; Rani's small hand pulled his arm: "Wait," she implored, "wait until tonight."
He turned to face those men and women in a circle, like vaguely frightened animals:
— You're not going to say anything? Gringo shouted at them. So you're not going to say anything?
There was silence. No one moved.
— She is sick, said a voice in the crowd. She must be left in peace.
— It's not true! cried Gringo. She is NOT sick. She is never sick.
— Leave it, Gringo — what can you do? said a woman's voice.
Gringo turned back towards Vrittru. He was like a motionless puma, his muscles tense, barring the door. Not a sound came from Ma's hut.
— She is not sick, said Gringo. I want to see her. Vrittru raised his chin, planted his hands in his puma skin — he looked like a furious pygmy: a pygmy yes, puffed up like a wineskin and bristling with fake muscles.
— She is sick and you will not see her again, said Vrittru. No one will enter her hut. And if she is strong enough, she will come out on her own... Hey, let her come out... if she can. No one is stopping her from coming out!
He sneered. Psilla approached like a cat on velvet paws:
— You are very intelligent, Gringo, and you know that Ma is our beloved mother...
Gringo felt a retching. For a moment he stood looking at that stupid, cowardly crowd, that armored brute triumphant, that greedy, saccharine-sweet woman...
— We also know your skill and your intemperate youth, she went on, but who is stronger than the law of the tribe? Did she heal Vrittru's son? Can she even heal herself and walk to the violet-wood? Let's see... call her.
— Enough, said Vrittru. You, Brujos — you will stand guard and see to it that no one disturbs her.
The crowd dispersed.
Gringo was left alone between Vrittru's gleaming eyes and that woman's icy look. He knew Ma would not come out again. He knew he was alone.
— Come, said Rani, squeezing his arm.
The two notes of the flutes reclaimed the clearing: grave, endless, clinging like millennia of night and death and fragile lamentation in a swarming of shadows that closes in.
He tightened his belt, looked once more at that man... and suddenly he knew that it was not Vrittru — not this triumphant pygmy — but the keeper of death standing there, as Jacaré is the keeper of the lake, as the silver mists out there are the keeper of another country. He was not before an enemy or a man: he was before the-one-who-guards-the-passage. "Tonight I will go," he thought.
He turned toward Rani.
She was holding a machete in her hand.
Home
Disciples
Satprem
Books
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.