Poetics of playfulness

The writer explores Tagore's insights on the essence of play and its role in our lives
Poetics of playfulness
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After almost two years of writing a column on traditional games, I circle back to a basic question — Why play? How important is play? The more I research traditional games and the more I understand play, the more I realise how intrinsically interwoven it is with so much of our lives.

Commemorating the birthday of Rabindranath Tagore (May 7), I thought it would be interesting to understand his views on play through his lens. I draw inspiration from two of his works on the subject.

Tagore is perhaps best known across the world for Gitanjali — a collection of poems for which he received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913, for its English translation, Song Offerings, making him the first non-European and the first Asian and the only Indian to receive this honour.

When My Play was with Thee was originally published as Song 97 in the Gitanjali collection. In the poem, the poet tells us about how God used to be his friend and play with him in the jungle. At that time, the poet did not realise who the form was. However, he always considered God his best friend.

This immortal poem of Tagore captures that strong essence of play and the belief that one could in sheer innocence and faith befriend God and play with him as a friend. This idea is echoed in numerous mythological stories and legends across the country.

When my play was with thee I never

questioned who thou wert. I knew nor

shyness nor fear, my life was boisterous.

In the early morning thou wouldst

call me from my sleep like my own

comrade and lead me running from

glade to glade.

Now, when the playtime is over,

what is this sudden sight that is come

upon me? The world with eyes bent

upon thy feet stands in awe with all its silent stars.

Another poem by Rabindranath Tagore is Playthings. In this poem, he watches and marvels at the innocence of a child finding joy in a twig and playing in the sand.

Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.

I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig. I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.

Perhaps you glance at me and think;What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!

Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.

I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.

Rabindranath Tagore was a poet, writer, and philosopher. Much of what he has written has tugged at our soul, touched our conscience, and made us think about things. Perhaps his writing on play will help us explore our traditional games and understand their importance.

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