Draupadi - XXIII

   

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - XXIII

The day came braving

my nightmares fears misgivings

the dawn was a murmuring string

of light, pre sunrise glow and dew

keeping me taut on the bed long.

I heard whispers of animation

fast walking feet and sombre music

raising the Omkar in auspicious chorus

jammed minds of organizers rang up

the solemn welcome of the fateful day.

 

The commanding voice of my father

thundered outside, orders issued

the competition will start at midday

the park, gallery, chairs and thrones

must be ready before the shadow of

 the peepal tree touches the south gate.

 

I sat on the bed hearing hurrying steps

Alpana, Aliva, Sarika  all entered

before I put my feet on ground

lifted me up giggling like school girls

unable to hide their picnic merriment.

 

You are unreasonable, Princess!

You are not a mere woman , you are

Drupad's daughter, Kampilya's Prize

the envy of all high born, all eyes

of Aryabarta are on you and the king

see how the royal tents of visiting kings

have now become a big city, the line

of boats in the Ganga, the carts and mules

never cease day and night carrying

provisions, fruits, vegetables and clothes

from all across this great country,

bards sing everywhere paeans to your beauty

curious villagers and townsmen come fast

from every part of Bharatvarsha -

 

O' I know Prabina, you too have come

from Kashi with your team to make me up

as something exotic, the sight of whom

should make the hands of Princes nerveless

I know but tell me where I'm wrong?

 

The Princes and Kings have come to win me

by their archery skill not to marry me

to live a life of love, amity, friendship:

he who wins can snatch me away and

rightfully so, the victor will claim his prize

and I have to go with him as a trophy

to be displayed with banter to his people

and the prize for an archer, a great hero

must not be a delicate doll, a dumb beauty

loaded with gold and jewellery made radiant

by lotions, pollens and your famed skills

make me the Bride of Fire, no jewellery

no mortal luxuries smeared artfully

make me burn the domed stadium

with the glow I came with straight from fire

the garland should be a ring of lightning

for a true Victor heat should be a balm

not something to recoil from in pain.

 

I know Princess you are no woman born

you are the daughter of Light, a woman

who would change the elemental world,

leave it to me I am sent to create

the true Draupadi with my leafy brushes

I have stardust and sunglow on dew pearl:

Well Prabina show your skills but make me

what I am, the woman not the Princess

or daughter, sister miracle woman

or changer of the fate of Aryabarta.

 

Yes I am the greatest prize for men

let no foolish mortal win me

shooting a winking arrow nonchalantly.

 

The women sang dancing like waves

the sun arose in scarlet splendour

to peep into the Roopshala for a glimpse

of the diadem of grace sublime.

 

The receiving band suddenly played

welcome to Drupad's courtyard,

A piece specially composed for the occasion,

the conches blew, the women sang lyrically

 welcome Vasudev, welcome Krishna

welcome the Prince of Hearts, King of men:

Draupadi's ears craned for more

she too muttered a welcome with a sigh.