Gitanjali Poem No. 82 - Summary and Analysis

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Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for our chances. We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; but I find that yet there is 

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy minutes.
Gitanjali Poem no. 82


      The poem is all about the time - Relative time is fleeting and evanescent. But time absolute is eternity itself. The days and nights pass and ages flourish and fade away, centuries follow each other and God is in still time. God can wait with infinite patience but man has to scramble for each second. They are so poor of time that they cannot afford to be late. In this way time goes by, while the poet is compelled to give something of it to every needy one. As a result of this the altar of God remains empty and there is no offering for him. The poet runs, hastens to His temple in fear lest God's gate should be shut. However, he finds it still open because there is always time in His world. He waits, waits and still waits for human soul to move towards Him.

Critical Analysis

      The devotee may think that he has frittered away all his time in worldly pursuits and that he is lost for ever. But there is always time in His world for His devotee. If he hurries to obtain His grace he will no doubt find the doors to His abode still open.

      The poet thinks he has lost his time with earthly people and has forgotten to give his time to Him. Wasted his words for irritating people and now his mouth is empty with words of offerings for the Great admirer. But when he reminds him and leads to his way he still finds His abode waiting for him. Man is lost in wordly trivialities but whenever he remembers Him he finds Him still waiting for his soul to come and meet Him, divine and spiritual one.


      Scramble: make haste. Querulous: irritable, ill-tempered.

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