To Agni, Our Sleepless Fire
Remove the hundred bonds O World
A sleepless Fire is born, burning the fabric of ignorance.
A Weaver is within, building a web of new light.
A miracled dwelling made anew, the Sole Deity’s mansion.
The Rig Veda, the most ancient Book of Mantras, the bedrock upon which the massive edifice of Sanatana Dharma, popularly known as Hinduism, begins with an invocation to Agni. And not to Ganesha, who would become manifest in human consciousness much later.
Agni, the sacrificial fire, the carrier of oblations to the Gods. Agni, the priest and guide of our godward endeavours.
One can almost imagine the precursors of the Rishis, the ancient Forefathers, who stumbled upon the secret. Almost by accident, or perhaps by a fortuitous nudge of impatient Gods.
Fire that turned all to ashes was not all that bad. The forefathers must have felt/perceived a concordance within. They too had a fire, one that could tame the bedlam of mind and senses.
Agni, was will, that stood above mind. Agni, was ardor, a flame in the heart. The Fire that burned without, had a counterpart within.
The Hindus venerate Agni. Not for us the trepidation of a Prometheus.
To that Agni, the ‘Immortal in mortals’, we offer our obeisance.