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.
XXI
AT the appointed hour, Gringo was ready.
He crossed the courtyard, looked once more at the great cherry tree and the window above. For a moment he stood with his eyes closed. Frogs croaked in the basin. He knew this hour well — it was old within him, as if dawn after dawn like this one had found him again; he could almost touch all those forms of himself, small and dressed in white, moving with eyes closed: a long procession of the dead in a morning like this one, each with a flame in the hollow of his hands — a flame, that is all that remains. A great gaze at nothing, filling with softness.
Gringo climbed the steps of the Citadel; the stone was cold beneath his feet, a wind from above caressed his shoulders. He shivered. He didn't ask himself whether he would fly or not; the world had fallen from him like a cloak, like a worn and not-quite-certain story; he held this flame in the hollow of his hands and it was the only story, the only heartbeat of all these vain heartbeats — so soft, like a bird, warm and full. A million gestures for this single gesture, a thousand days for this white minute — this single gaze at nothing, and yet the gaze of all gazes, the country sought through a thousand windows. Gringo held this small flame close to his heart — this single beating, sure thing, so sure, like the consent of all those sorrows, the smile that had taken thousands of steps to meet itself again at the end of the steps — and everything was simple and clear. Then he closed his eyes, let the flame rise, let the great tranquil country rise like a swell of gentleness embellished with bubbles and murmurs on a small bare shore.
The sea rippled in the distance.
He emerged onto the terrace with the cry of the seagulls.
Rani was there, hair loose in the wind, perfectly upright against the sky and the sea, like a prow ready to cleave space. Their eyes crossed for a moment. It was fire.
And then the dark circle: Vrittru in front, his violet toga flapping in the wind, arms crossed over his belly; the disciples mute with fear in their bellies; Psilla leaning forward as if to pluck some perverse delight from the condemned man's eyes.
He looked at the sea — oh, so beautiful, like a million silver birds.
He took three steps toward the edge; the wind smelled of fennel.
She took three steps.
And then everything happened very quickly: he saw the flash of a dagger; she threw herself upon Vrittru and pierced his heart. He slumped, the disciples cried out, Psilla leaped like a tigress.
There was a flash of white light.
Then he felt that small, warm hand taking his own, as an enormous crash shook the Citadel and split the rock behind them.
The earth groaned like a ship ripping itself open, snapping all its hawsers at once in a churning of molten sea and shattered rocks. All the seagulls flew away.
— Go! cried Gringo.
They spread their wings.
They departed on the wind, with the sharp cry of the seagulls and the wild foam.
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