Chitra, a Play in One Act

by Rabindranath Tagore

love, this is not man's highest homage to woman! Alas, that this frail disguise, the body, should make one blind to the light of the deathless spirit! Yes, now indeed, I know, Arjuna, the fame of your heroic manhood is false.

Joy turns into pain when the door by which it should depart is shut against it.

whom you love is like that perfect bead of dew.