LIST OF ARTICLES

VARIOUS STORIES THAT NICHOLAS ROERICH PUT IN HIS BOOK SHAMBHALA


 
 
 
JALNIK, THE SITE OF COMPASSION
 
(This is chapter 11 of the Nicholas Roerich's book Shambhala.)
 
On the high hills of Altai, the tops of old pines and fir-trees engage in peaceful communion. They know much—these mountain forests! They stand in wonder before the snowy ranges of the mountains. Their roots know what riches, what innumerable mineral treasures, are guarded in the stony depths of the mountains, for the future prosperity of humanity.
 
And the roots of these giant trees tenderly embrace the gray stones. These are the stones of the “site of compassion.”
 
Who knows who placed these stones here?
 
And who saw these men transfixed in awe beneath the stone stronghold?
 
Had these people heard of the future wealth of this country?
 
Did they know of Zvenigorod, the City of the Bells?
 
Was it they, who conceived the saga of the river Katum, of all the events which passed on the shores of this river, as it rolled down the great stones from the White Mountain, Belukha?
 
Were these people settlers or wanderers?
 
 
Old grandmother Anisya knows something about this place. She comes here to perform her invocations and conjurations. Do not be afraid! She is not a witch, she is not a Shaman sorceress. No one would speak ill of grandmother Anisya. But she knows many precious things. She knows the healing herbs; she knows conjurations which serve as prayers; she learned them from her grandmother. And a century ago the same stones and the same forest stood here as now.
 
Grandmother Anisya knows conjurations against all evils. No one besides herself knows that the kirik stone from the nest of a hoopoe is the best protection against treason. No one besides herself knows the best time to find this nest and how to obtain the stone.
 
She can tell you how hard are the present times and that you can be saved only by conjurations. At the present time three conjurations need be remembered:
 
The first of them is against enemies, against thieves and evil men. The second—do not forget it! against mortal weapons. The third—remember sharply! against lightning, against all thunder of heaven or earth! The thunder of earth resounds and heavenly forces rise.
 
Remember the first one:
 
“On the sea, on the ocean, on the Buyan Island, there is an iron chest and in this iron chest there are steel swords. Ho, steel swords! Approach our enemy! Cut his body in pieces! Pierce his heart! Until he renounces all evil; until he returns the stolen booty; until he will surrender all, without concealing anything. Thou enemy, adversary, be cursed by my powerful conjurations!
 
Be damned in the depths of hell! Beyond the Arrarat mountains, into the boiling tar! Into the burning ashes! Into the scum of swamps! Into the bottomless abyss!
 
Be you, enemy, pierced by the spike of an aspen tree!
 
And be dried even more than the hay!
 
And be frozen even more than the ice!
 
Become cross-eyed, lame, mad, armless, impoverished, hungry, outcast; and perish by another’s hand!”
. . .
You see, what strong powers grandmother Anisya possesses! Who can withstand such conjurations!
 
And not only does she speak in a strident voice, but she also holds in her hand a tiny stick, and as she speaks of the death of an enemy, she breaks this stick, just as the life of her evil adversary shall be broken. And never shall he know from what hill, from what mountain, came this unconquerable power.
 
 
The second conjuration is against weapons. Each warrior must know this conjuration. Hear and remember!
 
“Beyond the far-off mountains is the sea of iron. In the sea stands a pillar of bronze. And on that bronze pillar there stands a shepherd of cast iron. And this pillar rises from earth into heaven. From the East to the West.
 
And the shepherd commands his children; he commands the iron, the steel, red and blue, the copper, the lead, the silver, and the gold. He speaks to guns and to arrows. He gives to the fighters and warriors the great command:
 
‘You iron, copper, lead, go back into your mother-earth, away from the warrior; return, tree, to the far-off shore, and you, arrow-feathers, return to the birds! And you birds—disappear in the sky!’
 
And he commands swords, axes, boar-spears, knives, arquebuses, arrows and all warriors—to be calm and peaceful!
 
And he orders every warrior not to shoot at me from a gun!
 
But he orders the arbalest and stringbows to bend and cast all arrows deep down into the earth!
 
Let my body be stronger than stone. Firmer than steel. Let my armor be stronger than helmets and ring-armor.
 
I seal my words with all locks. I cast the keys under the white Flaming Stone, Alatyr!
 
And as locks are strong, so strong are my words.”
. . .
No one would care to be in the position of this conjured adversary. What weapons could avail against this powerful incantation! The White Flaming Stone itself, Great Alatyr, bears witness to this immutable might! And again, not only words are projected into the space, but grandmother Anisya has four stones in her hands and she throws them to the four ends of the earth.
 
But the third conjuration is the most awe-inspiring one. This one is against lightning, against the thunders of heaven and earth:
 
“Holy! Holy! Holy! Thou, who dwellest in the thunder! Thou who subduest the lightning! Thou who floodest the earth with rain! Thou, mightiest Ruler! Thou alone adjudge the cursed Satan with all the devils!
 
 
But save us, sinners!
 
“Thy wisdom is incomparable, all-powerful! All honor from God! From him comes liberation to the motherland! Be it so now, eternally and forever! Thou, Lord of Terror! Thou, Lord of all miracles! Thou, who dwellest on the most high! Thou, who movest in the thunder! Mastering fire! Lord of all miracles! Thyself destroy the enemy, the Satan! Be it so now, eternally and forever. Amen!”
. . .
This is most powerful. The highest, heavenly power is summoned. From the mountain stream, grandmother Anisya takes a handful of clear water and dashes it into space. And glistening drops, as heavenly lightnings, surround the conjuror.
 
 
The conjurations are ended. And the power departs from grandmother. She becomes small and bent. And the small old woman walks away beyond the hill. From Jalnik—site of compassion—to the lake at the foot of the mountain, through fields of spring wheat, into a distant village, she goes. Not for her own ends, did Granny come from afar to invoke the high forces. Grandmother sent out conjurations for all people, for distant warriors, for a new life. But she also prayed for the unknown silent ones, who are buried under the stones and roots of the pine-trees. She brought holy oil for the saints. Because on the highest pine-tree, in the bark, an old ikon is carved out and it is said that the ikon appeared of itself.
 
On the summits of Altai, on the ranges of Ural, far off up to the very hills of Novgorod, fir and cedar groves tower high. From the far, far distance one may behold their dark caps. Under the roots of firs, many stones are gathered together with great labor. Beautiful sites! Ancient sites! How did they come to be here? Was it the unknown pilgrims who built them? Was it the Mongols? Was it the Tzar, the terrible? Or are they from times of unrest? Or from wars and foreign invasions? All these at one time were here.
 
And the silent ones lie buried here. Lie in rest, unknown to all grandfathers. And thus one prays for them!
 
For the known and unknown, for the sung and unsung, for the storied and unstoried…
 
“Jalniks,” the sites of compassion, so are called these beautiful sites of silence. They are also called “divinets,” sites of wonder.
 
Divinet, site of wonder, resounds with exultation. But “Jalnik”—site of compassion—is still nearer to the heart. In this expression lies so much of love and gentle pity, so much of rest and words of eternity. The giant fir-trees guard this place with their mighty branches. Only the tops rustle. Below is silence and shade. The gray juniper. Only two or three dry blades of grass. Everywhere, blackberries and dried evergreen needles.
 
High on the fir tree sits an old raven. He is so old that he has claws, not only on his feet but even on his wings. As we regarded this raven with awe, as a prehistoric relic, he fell down dead. The stones are set in rows and in circles. All of them must remember the moraines of the glacier period. White, grayish, violet, bluish and almost black. From the East to the West these stones may be observed, adorned by a white moss. Everywhere, too, is gray moss. Everywhere there is ancient grayness.
In grayness, sleep the “calm ones.”
 
In white garments, repose the “resting ones.”
 
Oh, through what sufferings they passed! Many things they witnessed! Wise and without doubts is their wisdom!
 
“As in heaven, so upon earth. As above, so below. That which was, shall come again!”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
GAYATRI
 
(This is chapter 12.)
 
“Ye Birds, Homas, ye beautiful!
You You do not love the earth—
Never will you descend to earth!
Your birdlings are born in heavenly nests.
You are nearer the Sun.
Let us ponder about the sun, the Resplendent!
But the Devas of Earth are also miraculous.
Upon the Summits of Mountains, in the depths of seas, seek patiently.
Thou shalt find a glorious Stone of Lore,
In Thy heart search for Brindavan, abode of Love.
Seek patiently and you will find.
Let the Ray of Wisdom pierce us.
Then all which moves will become affixed.
The shadow will become the body.
The spirit of air will return to land.
The dream will be transformed into thought.
We will not be moved by the storm.
We shall rein the winged steeds of morning.
We will guide the currents of the evening wind.
Thy Word is the Ocean of Truth.
Who turns our ships to the shore?
Do not fear Maya.
Her untold might and power we shall conquer.
Harken! Harken! Have done with dissension and fights.”
Surendra Gayatri prayed.
From the stones of the city he went to the shades of Aranyani.
And in the blissful stillness he rested.
But the battle began.
Kings of the ancient lands set plans to shatter the sacred vessels!
Let the wisdom of Nilgiri perish!
Let the Ghat and Khunda ranges droop!
Let Gaya be destroyed.
The river Falgu shall over-flow!
Naught can break the terror—
Fire and arrows,
Poison and deadly thunders rain from above and below.
Black birds are flying.
The people found Gayatri.
The people approached him.
The people besought his help.
The people, in despair, compelled Gayatri to change his good prayers.
“Forget your righteous prayers, Gayatri.
Search the mortal word.
Find the deadly eye.
Pray for oath of victory.
“Farewell, Aranyani!
Farewell, celestial silver and gold!
Farewell, thou most quiet forest!”
Gayatri hears the calls.
Gayatri departs from the forest.
Gayatri ascends the summit.
Gayatri is alone.
Gayatri encircles himself with a Ray.
Gayatri prays with all his being:
“Lion and Swan!
Eagle and deer!
Bull, lion, eagle!
Ruler of the World!
Ruler of the Stars and the Moon!
Ruler of Light and of the Sun!
Indra!
“Do not invoke the Black Age!
Our strength is exhausted.
Asleep is the sacred jewel!
No longer it defeats the wandering spirits.
No longer it stays our enemies.
“Sound the command for hostilities.
Sound the command of strength!
A conjuration for victory!
Let us defeat the enemy.
Say the words of Nagaima.
Bestow the strength of Exola.
Bestow the deadly word.
Open the deadly eye.
Rakshasi conquered the people.
Samyasa, Leader of the Sons of Heaven, Ruler of the Serpents, also taught Power.
Azaciel also taught the forging of arms.
Amazaraka also revealed the mysterious powers of herbs and roots.
They are dark, evil, insignificant.
But You are able. You have Power.
Allelu! Allelu! Allelu!”
The Supreme hears Gayatri.
The Supreme shall fulfil Gayatri’s request.
The Supreme does not admit the destruction of Nilgiri.
Dear to the Supreme is the wisdom of the summits.
The Supreme shall set a test:
“I will not give thee Exola, nor Nagaima.
Neither against the hosts, nor for success.
I will not give thee Zaadotota, nor Addivata,
Neither against enmity, nor for revenge.
I will not give thee Kaalbeba, nor Alsibena,
Neither against animus, nor for harm and rupture.
I will not give thee the deadly word.
The deadly eye, I will not open.
All conjurations I will gather.
Alshill! Alzelal! Alama! Ashmekh!
Kaaldalbala! Kaalda! Kaldebda!
I will leave them, will forget them!
Anax! Aluxer! Ataiya! Atars!
I will end, will part from them!
I will bestow another thing—
That which shall have the power of repulsion—
It will open the Power to none.
Hear!
There walks one,
Walks peacefully.
In a white garment he walks.
Swordless he walks.
All that has been done against thee will turn against them.
All that they wished against you, they will themselves receive.
Good and evil.
Who desired evil—will receive it.
Who desired good—he may accept it.
All will receive.
Go. Do not hesitate.
I will make an end to the trial.
Alm! Alm! Algarfelmukor!”
What passed?
Gayatri passed on—
In white and calmly.
Without arrow nor sword
Without hatred nor threat.
What passed?
The enemies shot their arrows against Gayatri, poisoned arrows.
The arrows turned and struck those who sent them.
Others threw spears at Gayatri and fell, transfixed.
Poison they spilt for him and died themselves terrified.
What passed?
Hosts of enemies died by their own hand.
With hatred their spirit overflowed.
Their hearts swelled with revenge.
What passed?
They destroyed and burned.
They poisoned rivers and lakes.
They sped a shower of flames.
They shrieked their curses.
They burned and drowned.
They turned black, convulsed.
They gashed and strangled—
Themselves.
What passed?
They forgot the good.
They lost the good meeting.
The good eye darkened.
The word of caress they deadened.
Thus it passed!
The foolhardy perished.
By the strength of enemies, Gayatri went through the kingdom of the old lands.
Passed through gates and palaces, bridges and villages.
Quiet was the old kingdom.
Destroyed were the foolhardy.
Gayatri stood still.
To stay the power, he knew not.
He could not lay bare the strength.
He could not dare to turn toward his own.
Gayatri kindled a fire.
He bestowed the Power upon the fire.
He sowed the Power to the winds!
“Sacred ashes! Light veil of Bliss!
Thou coverest! Thou cleanest! And liberate!”
But the Supreme does not pause:
“Do not ponder over ashes.
Turn toward your own people.
Meet the child.
Carry it before you.
Teach. In the name of the Highest, two cannot fight.
One of them is a dark one—
Conquer the dark.
I made a test—
Into the whirlpool I submerged the old land.
I will overthrow the useless.
I will again raise the summits.
I will uplift. I will test. In heaven and on earth
I fulfil the Law.”
Gayatri found the child.
Gayatri raised the child.
And returned to Nilgiri.
Gayatri forgot Aranyani.
He left the forest behind.
Gayatri prayed for the opening of the righteous eye.
And to find the righteous word.
Harken, people!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
DREAMS
 
(This is chapter 13.)
 
Such were the dreams before the war: We were traveling through a field. Behind the hill the clouds rose. A storm. Through a cloud, head downwards, a fiery serpent pierced the earth. The serpent was double-headed.
Or another dream: Again we travel over a gray plain. No sign of life. Before us, a high hill glimmers dark. We look, but it is not a hill; it is a huge, coiled gray serpent.
 
And long before were conjurations. The evil ones were conjured. The untruth was conjured. Bird and beast were conjured. Earth and water were conjured. But to no avail. The monsters crept out.
Later were signs. They did not perceive them. They did not trust them. They did not grasp them. The crowds stamped upon them.
 
And the serpent awoke. The enemy of mankind rose. Attempted by slander to conquer the world. To destroy cities. To defame temples. Turn to ashes human strivings.
 
He rose to his own destruction.
There were conjurations. There were signs.
Dreams remained. Those dreams that are fulfilled.
He laid himself to rest for the night.
He thought—I shall see great Magi.
There was desire to see—how they look.
There was desire to hear—what names they bear.
He wished to see what is bound to their saddles. What road they take. They should reveal. Whence and whither.
But they did not appear, the Magi.
Possibly it was too soon.
Did not start out yet.
Instead of the Magi two others appeared.
 
One middle aged in an old blue shirt. In an old dark kaftan. Long hair. In the right hand three staffs.
 
He holds them today with points upwards. Mark, upwards. All has its meaning. But this is Saint Prokopyi, himself.
 
He who saved Ustyng the Great.
 
He, who took away the stony cloud from the city. He, who upon high shores prayed for the unknown travelers.
 
Marvelous tidings! Himself came Prokopyi the Righteous.
 
And another one with Him—white and old. In one hand a sword and in another the city.
 
Certainly he is Saint Nicholas.
 
Instead of the Magi with the star, these came.
 
Prokopyi speaks:
 
-        “Do not depart from the earth. The earth is red, red hot with evil. But the heat of evil nurtures the roots of the Tree. And upon this Tree the good creates its Benevolent nest. Attain the labor on earth. Ascend to the heavenly ocean, the resplendent, but dark only for us. Guard the Benevolent Tree. Good lives on it. The earth is the source of sorrow, but out of sorrow grow joys. He who is the highest knows the predestined date of your joy. Do not depart from the earth. Let us sit down and ponder about far-off wanderers.”
 
The other, the white one, lifted the sword. And people came closer to him. Many came forward.
 
-        “Nicholas, the Gracious! Thou Miracle Maker! Thou, All-powerful! Thou, Holy Warrior! Thou, Conqueror of Hearts! Thou, Leader of true thoughts! Thou, Knowing heavenly and earthly forces!
 
Thou, Guardian of the Sword! Thou, Protector of Cities! Thou knowing the Truth! Do you hear the prayers, Mighty One?
 
Evil forces are battling against us.
 
Protect, Thou Mighty One, the Holy City! The resplendent city calls wrath in the enemy. Accept, Thou Mighty One, the beautiful city. Raise, Father, the Sacred Sword!
 
Invoke, Father, all saintly warriors. Miracle-maker, manifest a stern face! Cover the cities with the holy sword! Thou canst, to Thee is given Power!
 
We stand without fear and tremor…”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE DESERT CITIES
 
(This is chapter 14.)
 
The world is described as an old man…
The people answer for their striving.
Thoughts grow through striving.
Thought gives birth to desire.
Desire has stirred up the command.
The human structure quivers with desires.
Do not fear, ancient man!
Joy and sorrow are as a river.
Waves are passing, purifying.
 
The Czar rejoiced:
 
-        “My land is vast. My forests are mighty. My rivers are teeming. My mountains are precious. My people are merry. Beautiful is my wife.”
 
The Czarina rejoiced:
 
-        “Many forests and fields have we. Many song birds have we. Many varied flowers have we.”
 
An old man entered the palace. A newcomer. He greeted the Czar and Czarina. And he sat down exhausted.
 
The Czar asked:
 
-        “Why art thou weary, old man? Hast thou been wandering long?”
 
The old man became sorrowful.
 
-        “Vast is thy land. Mighty, thy forests. Teeming are thy rivers. Thy mountains are unsurpassable. During my wanderings I nearly perished. Yet I could not reach a city where I could find rest. Few cities hast thou, O Czar! We old ones love city structures. We love the trusty walls. We love the watchful towers and the gates, which are obedient to command. Few cities hast thou, O Czar. Thy neighboring rulers surround themselves more strongly with walls.”
 
The Czar became sorrowful.
 
-        “Few cities have I. Few trusty walls. Few towers have I. Few gates to encircle all my people.”
 
The Czar commenced to mourn.
 
-        “Old man! Wise in years! Teach me how to cover my vast domain with cities. How shall I set within walls all my people?”
 
The old man rejoiced.
 
-        “Thou shalt set all thy people within walls. Two lands beyond thine lives a giant Czar. Give him a great prize. The giants shall bring thee from the Indian Czar, countless cities. They shall bring them with walls and gates and towers. Do not spare in rewarding the giant Czar. Give him a great prize. Even if he shall demand the Czarina, thy wife.”
 
The old man got up and departed—as though the passer-by had never been there. The Czar sent his request into the land of the giants.
 
The giant, woolly Czar was laughing.
 
-        “He sent his people to the Indian Czar to steal away the cities with walls and gates and towers.”
 
And the giant, woolly Czar did not take a small reward. He took a precious mountain. He took a teeming river. He took an entire mighty forest. He took into the bargain the Czarina, the wife of the Czar. Everything was promised to him. Everything was ceded to him.
The Czarina sorrowed.
 
-        “O, the woolly Czar will take me to please a strange man, an old one! All the people will be enclosed by heavy gates. O, they will trample all my flowers with cities. And they will cover with towers the whole starry canopy. Aid me, my blooms—the underground secrets are known to you. The giants bear the Indian cities, with walls and gates and towers!”
 
The blossoms heard the complaint. They began to wave their flowery heads. From beneath the world rose their thought. The great thought began to stir beneath the earth. The forests began to waver with thought. The mountains were devastated by thought: they crumbled even into small stones. The earth was fissured with thought. Fissured also became the heavens.
 
The thought came flowing across the desert sands. The thought stirred the free sand. It rose as undulating ramparts. The sands rose against the giant people.
 
The giants stole the Indian cities with walls, gates and towers. They drove the Indian people from their huts. They lifted the cities upon their shoulders. Swiftly they returned. They went to earn their great prize for the woolly Czar.
 
The giants approached the desert sands. The desert sands lifted into masses. The sands rose like dark whirlwinds. The sands veiled the beautiful sun. The sands raised themselves into the heavens. And how the sands smote the giant people!
 
The sands crept into the broad jaws. The sands flowed into the woolly ears. The sands obscured the eyes of the giants. The sands conquered the giant-people. The giants abandoned the cities to desert sands. Scarcely did they escape, without eyes or ears.
 
The desert sands buried the Indian cities. They buried them with walls, gates and towers. The people know of these cities, even up to the present time. But who brought the cities to the desert sands, the people do not know.
 
The flowers bloom as never before.
 
From the flowers the Czarina understood that the cities were razed. And the Czarina sang a merry song—for honest people to hear, to the glory of the Saviors!
 
The Czar heard the song and rejoiced, exulting. And the Czar laughed at the giant’s misfortune. And the Czar smiled at the cities, hidden in the desert sands. No longer yearned the Czar for foreign cities.
 
The teeming river remained with the Czar. His was the precious mountain. His was the mighty forest. His, the flowers and singing birds, and all his people. His, the beautiful Czarina. His, the merry song. Greatly rejoiced the Czar.
 
Not so soon shall the old man again enter the Palace.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
LYUT, THE GIANT
 
(This is chapter 15.)
 
On the echoing cape, near the sacred grove,
On the lake, lived the Giant, Lyut.
A mighty one, great and good
And a mighty hunter was he.
The beard of Lyut had seven tips.
An hundred foxes made his head-gear.
The garments of Lyut were of gray wolf.
The ax of Lyut was of red flint.
The spear of Lyut was of white flint.
The arrows of Lyut were black, never-failing.
Beyond the lake lived the brethren of Lyut.
And on the mountain site Lyut built his dwelling.
From the echoing cape he called his brothers—
Even in a whisper.
To his brother beyond the lake, he handed his ax.
With his brother, beyond the lake, Lyut hunted.
With his brother beyond the lake, Lyut cast his nets.
With his brother beyond the lake, he brewed his ale.
He boiled his tar and fetched his forage.
He lit his bonfires and danced merrily with his sister.
Then Lyut went strolling beyond the lake.
Ill-starred was his stride—he sank.
Lyut, the Giant, sank even up to his chest.
Badly he fared.
His dog followed him and sank.
Who can call the brethren of Lyut?
For a day’s distance, there is no one in sight.
The lake splashes. The wind murmurs.
Death itself walks over the ridge.
Lyut raised his eyes to the clouds—
Cargoose flew by. The giant called,
“Do you see me in the lake?”
“I see-ee,” came the answer.
“Tell my brethren—I drow-w-w-n! I drow-w-wn!”
Far flies the cargoose.
Resoundingly echoes its call: “I drow-w-w-n! I drow-w-wn!”
The cargoose knows not that it proclaims misfortune—
The lake holds no evil for it.
The lake is kind.
Only in the wood the cargoose fares badly, and in the fields.
The brethren are laughing.
They do not hear the cargoose.
They have caught an elk in the marshes.
Finally the brethren of Lyut arrive
But Lyut has perished.
A long mound is built—and a round one for his dog.
Of sorrow dies the sister of Lyut.
The giants throw bars into the lake.
They bury their axes beneath the roots of trees.
The giants abandon our land.
But the cargoose lives on the lake since those ancient days.
A foolish bird. But a prophet bird.
It confuses the call of the giant
In fair weather it calls, “I drow-w-w-n! I drow-w-w-n!”
As if drowning, it flutters its wings.
In foul weather, it calls—”Ho, ho—ho, ho!”
Over the water, it flies and screams, “See-ee-ee! I see-ee-ee—”
People remember the lake of Lyut.
People remember the long mounds.
The long mounds of giants.
And the length of the mounds is nine scores of cubits.
The shores of the lake remember the giants.
The trunks of the oaks remember the giants.
The giants carried the stones to the mounds.
The people remember how the giants departed.
From ancient time it was even so.
I so affirm!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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