The sixth poem from Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitanjali speaks in the voice of urgency, yet its urgency is tender rather than anxious. The speaker offers a small flower and asks that it be taken now. Not later. Not when it has become more impressive or more fragrant. Now, while it is still alive and capable of being offered. The request feels simple, but it carries a deep spiritual intuition about time, devotion and the fragile nature of human readiness.
At the surface the poem seems to describe a literal flower. It is small. Its colour is not deep. Its fragrance is faint. It may never find a place in a grand garland. And yet the speaker asks that it be plucked and used in service. The fear is not rejection. The fear is delay. Delay may cause the flower to droop, to fall into dust, to miss the moment when offering is possible at all.
Spiritually, the flower stands in for the self. Not the perfected self. Not the heroic self. The ordinary self as it is now. The poem does not wait for transformation before devotion. It asks that what is present be given while it is still alive. This is a quiet teaching in nonduality. The divine is not waiting for a future version of us. The universal spirit meets us where we are, in the modest reality of the present moment.
There is also a striking honesty about imperfection. The speaker admits the flower lacks depth of colour and strength of scent. Nothing is exaggerated. There is no attempt to make the offering seem grander than it is. This refusal to embellish is itself an act of sincerity. The poem suggests that truthfulness matters more than splendour. What is faint but real is more precious than what is impressive but delayed.
Time plays a central role. The speaker fears the day may end before awareness arrives. The time of offering may pass unnoticed. This is not fear of punishment. It is the sadness of a missed encounter. Spiritual life here is not framed as eternity opposed to time. It is framed as attentiveness within time. The sacred appears in moments that can be missed if we are distracted or hesitant.
The line about the pain of the touch is important. To pluck the flower causes pain. Even a gentle offering involves cost. Devotion is not always comfortable. It asks for vulnerability. It asks to be taken up and used rather than preserved safely. The poem accepts this cost without drama. Pain is part of being offered. It is not a reason to refuse.
From a nondual perspective the poem dissolves the distance between offering and offered. The self is not something owned and later surrendered. It is already growing in the field of the sacred. To be plucked is not to be destroyed. It is to be placed into service. Dust is not the enemy. Wasted time is. The poem urges the reader to choose participation over postponement.
For someone listening to this poem today, it can feel like a gentle but firm nudge. Do not wait to be worthy. Do not wait to be certain. Do not wait for deeper colour or stronger fragrance. Offer what is alive in you now. Attention, effort, love, presence. These are small flowers. They may seem ordinary. But they are meant for use.
In this way the poem becomes a meditation on readiness. Spiritual life is not a distant achievement. It is an act of timely giving. The universal spirit does not demand perfection. It asks for presence before the day ends.
Arup K. Chatterjee 