Monday, November 12, 2012

Ahalya

(Painting by Shibu Natesan- All images are for illustration purpose only)


‘It’s you, oh Lord,” pouting her lips

In disparage and contempt

Says Ahalya to an astonished God

Who was out there in his own exile.

‘It was not you whom I waited

All these years for the redeeming touch.

Why couldn’t he come, the one

With his mighty word and sword?

Benevolent as he is always asks the Lord

Why the redemption of stone did not amuse her;

The deliverance, a thing to cherish and nourish?

He probes with his bow like eye brows.

Thus speaks Ahalya her story

Of Eternal love and desire that had appeared

As carnal pleasures and lusty sin

In the eyes of those who did not care a bit.

The forest was glorious

In the spring’s caress

Blushing like a bride

The trees brought forth

Flowers on their branches.

Evening, filled with the

Songs of birds and spirits,

A mild sun painting sky with

Differing hues of orange and red


Filled unfulfilled desires in her.

The great sage had gone to the ghat

To do his evening ablutions and prayers

As a good wife it was her duty to stay

Within the hut and recited mantras

For the benefit of the worlds and unsure gods.

Within the closed eyes and quivering lips

Praises of gods and the eternal spirit

She saw the paths of serenity

And in the midst she saw under the

Canopy of desire, her man standing and waiting.


II

(Painting by Shibu Natesan)

He is always there, thought she


Shaking off her fears and doubts


And the duties of a sage’s wife


Cannot wander like a fox in the bushes,


She knew that for sure but how could


She help herself when love defeated


All proprieties of a devoted wife?


She has been pushing his form away


From her mind and soul for long


Failing day in and out, it was just duty


That took her all along with the one


Who had vaulted her life in sagacious virtues.


Each time he appeared as if from nowhere;



She knew he came through clouds


Through the eyes of peacock feathers


In the wind that blew from the hills


By the song that river sang to her


Behind the bowers and at the top of the trees


From the tip of a dream that stayed


He came each time to her


With passion filled eyes and an enigmatic smile.


Were those intrigues enough


Those bodily pulls strong


To capture a woman who had spent


Eons with a sage who breached no trust


But never loved the way the one could have loved?


She asked herself several times.


Scriptures that she recited

Reiterated wifely duties,


Day in and day out she should be the faithful


Following like a shadow of her husband


In words, deeds and the killing of desires.


III 

(Painting by Shibu Natesan)

She had slept on the cold floor


She had sat in the middle of five fires


She had lied on the thorny bed


She had spent days without food


She had repeated the words


That her husband told her


She had sounded his thoughts


To the trees, streams and unsuspecting fauns.


Not even once the man asked


Whether she wanted anything


More than the prayers and wisdom.


He left her all alone for days end


When he went to give light


To the kings who were waging


Hopeless wars for women and gold.


She remained true and faithful


And each time the desirable one appeared


She averted her eyes to the vast lands of


Dried off dreams lay within her mind.


IV 

(Painting by A.Ramachandran)

In the form of the sage he came on that day,


Say the lore and histories written


And sung by those who want it to be,


So that they could protect the fame of a sage


Who was mired in his anger and impotency.


He had not come in the form my husband,


Weak, angry and complaining for


Gods abandoning him always but


Adamant in pleasing them by his


Eternal penances and recitals.


He had come in his own form,


So beautiful, alluring and desirable


Stood he there at the door step


Without violating even an inch


That the domestic sanctity had drawn.


He was so gorgeous to look at


And his eyes held the pain of abandoning.


His lips complained and uttered the loving


Words against me for keeping him long.


I was dumbstruck and numb


Could not say that I was duty bound


If I loved him back the heavens would break


And the world would fall apart in war and pestilence.


They say if a sage’s woman desires a man


Whom she loves and craves for union


The world would stop and kingdoms would fall,


On this lie they had made empires


And made special jails for women in gold and silver


They still remain like caged birds


That have forgotten the songs of love.


V

(Painting by A.Ramachandran)

He held my hands and thousand


Forests bloomed at once


Eagles flew all over the sky


Spreading their shadows below


As if they were the blessing hands of gods


And all those women suffered for their vows.


Along the spring we walked


In silence but hand in hand


I knew the throbbing of his veins


And the blood that carried his pains.


We looked at the sky that I had been seeing


For ages with an angry sage


But it looked so different and beautiful


I thought it was a new sky.


We walked in the unknown forest paths


Laden with flowers, grass and moss


Animals looked at us in wonder


Some of them started playing yonder.


Butterflies followed us everywhere


While we shared our stories there.


We did not indulge in carnal pleasures.


But he, like a peacock of thousand eyes


Looked at me as if I were the first woman


Who he was looking at for the first time.


He looked at me as if I was first time being looked at


And I felt so happy.


His touch sent me to the heavens that had not been


Mentioned in the scriptures that I was reading all around.


He took me to the visions that no god had promised


He took me to the beauties that no poet had written.


When he kissed me for the first time


I shivered like a flame under a breeze


When he held me close to his chests


I became a wild fire under a storm.


Words that had never existed or I thought so


Rolled out of my tongue that was touching his


Scriptures and sagacious words disappeared


As if they were ghosts shying away while day break.


VI 

(Painting by A.Ramachandran)


We were like two souls walking along


A river of dreams and desires


We were like two story tellers telling


Stories that remained untold for long.


We were like two eagles in the sky


Scaling heights and playing our might.


We became two children caught by


An innocent Game that they had just discovered.


We sang songs that never existed


And on my nape he exhaled a tune of love.


Along my back his fingers flew


Writing a pact that never broke.


Writhing in happiness like a swan


That about to take off from its watery abode,


I held onto him as if he was the air that I breathed.


Time I did not know existed, space


Was nothing but him who filled all.


Each pore in me thrived in ecstasy


And it was not just for an evening’s


Pleasure, but a pact eternal sealed by lips.


Oh Lord, you may call it carnal pleasure


Unbridled desires of a wanton woman


History would worship me for my patience


That made me to wait for your touch, they say.


Call it anything, desire or bodily pleasures


Love or pact or anything that you like.


But it was my deed conscious and aware


I knew that I was willing to surrender.


It was not his cunning tactics


It was not his arrogant attitude


It was not his salacious words


It was not his darting eyes


That sent more than one message at a time


It was my love and my longing


And my conscious decision to be with him


That led me to his arms and I am so happy


That I did though I paid for it being a stone.


VII

(Painting by A.Ramachandran)

He came in and he saw us


I don’t remember it was a bad scene


He might not have even imagined


That his sagacious wife could be


So abandoned and happy in the


Hands of a man who shone like Indra.


He became aware of his shortcomings


In that moment of confrontation


People say ‘we were caught in a


Compromised position, what a fun’.


We were not in a compromising position


But I had taken a decision on my life


It was my deed and my word and I was


Fully aware of the love that I made.


The confrontation for him was


Like the striking of vajra, that he could not stand.


He looked at my beloved


With his raging eyes.


I could see his impotent rage


Not for his wife went loose


But for he could not dam that river


That he did not know flowed in her.


He thundered like a wounded animal


Threw curses at my beloved, who


Stood almost unchallenged and daring.


I will take her along with me


For I will adore her as my wife


I will never come to your vicinity


And will never hurt your sanity.


He was polite, but not desperate,


For a moment I thought that


Two men were making a bargain on me.


I hated them both at once but then recovered


As I could not hate my man, my love


Who then was standing the rage of a sage.


“Be a sahasra yoni”, a man of thousand vaginas


Cursed my legal husband of sagacity


And my man, my beloved and my only love


Turned into a man with yonis all over his body.


They say he was filled with shame,


But I would say he should have been filled with pride


For it was my yoni imprinted on him


As a seal of love and my devotion for him.


Why should he be shameful?


How could that piece of my body


Which is craved by each man on the earth


And fight wars to possess it,


Violate it whenever they get a chance


Burn it ruthlessly for dowry


Lech at it at dreams and literature,


Be a shameful one; shouldn’t it be a thing of pride


Worn by a man who won it by labour.


But for the world, something of power


Of a woman in love is a dangerous thing.


One should curse someone with the


Most fearful thing so that they could


Secretly enjoy it and put the other in shame.


What a shame, oh Lord.


But what a beautiful day it was, oh Lord.


My man went into exile


I don’t have a clue where he has gone.


Perhaps, in future the stories and histories


Would say that he was rescued by other gods.


Aren’t they too males, Oh Lord, like you


That they want their man back and manhood restored


For the peace and permanency of the world, Oh Lord.


But I heard the sage cursing me:


“Be a stone, an unfeeling rock


Lie their abandoned like a bad memory


And wait for your deliverance


When in Tetra Yuga, the Lord of Lords


Come in your way, still not knowing his destiny.”


And with a smile I took the curse.


I grew into a stone and I remember


The last thing I saw then was


The beautiful face of my man, my beloved


With a reassuring smile in his eyes;


My eyes turned into two pieces of granite. 


VIII

(Take me Where I Belong- a painting by Shibu Natesan)

Is it like that, oh Lord, in your Land


You turn your women into stone


If they exercise their free will


And stand up for their rights?


Asks Ahalya, her eyes still wandering for her beloved.


The Lord, shocked by the severe utterance


Of the woman who had just come out of the stone


Looked at her with a sense of reverence.


In a flash, history came before his mind


And he knew that it was Ahalya and


Releasing her from the spell of curse


Was his duty which he now performed.


Gods know what they should say


When they redeem the cursed ones


From their dormancy and bring them into life


But here he remained silent


Not knowing what to tell this woman


Who had spent a stone’s life


Just for a glimpse of her lover.


“Curse me back to stone, oh Lord,” says she


For she wants to be with her man


Or she prefers a granite life to the one


She has just got as a boon.


Bewildered Lord looks around,


Lakshman averts his eyes,


Sages with them hang their head in shame


For now their tribe is brought to trial.


Trees look at Ahalya in anticipation


Birds stop chirping,


Grass hangs from the mouth of deer


A drop of tear stays frozen at her right eye.


Then she looks around, calls out his name


With his name echoing from the innards of forest


She walks into it, into the darkness of the unknown


A furrow appears deep down there


Drenched in light and fragrance.


Ahalya walks into it and into a new world.


And today she is everywhere


In every household, every library


Every street, every office, every studio


Every work place and make up rooms


Disparaging the touches of a benevolent lord


A sagacious husband who leaves her dry


She is eternally looking for a world


That does not turn her into a stone 



Exercising her free will and desire. 







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