Phoneless, messages, bouquets
all come in
sequences like
pebbles,
sand, leftover foam
drying up in
half a second.
Images turn turtle
gold becomes
bronze
flowers
sting like asps,
for the
axial joy is
lost like
diamond below the sea.
My soul is
dumb as the words
hurriedly typed
in a message
and closed
like the midnight lotus
will my
light ever come
to breathe
out the petals?
Yes light
will come
flowers will
bloom but
my bloom will wait for
the soul of light to awaken my soul.
Sabita Sahu.
a
declaration of intent, a wordy
musical
round in showy glamour
I don’t know
what to say
I love you
is a cliché a hackneyed
slogan
reassuring the weak.
I have
nothing to declare
except my
silent prayer before God
make my love
outlive your Time.
Dinner
parties picnics orgies
like
Krishna’s Rasa I hate,
I am Radha
in my small kunj
always
hungry of your presence
come if you
love me, I have
all the
stars in party drunk mood.
Foreign
trips, cruises in luxury yacht
are all here in my small hut
the sea
invites, the sky offers space,
the planets
in the solar system
are ready to
be gopis in our Rasa.
Love happens
like the tides
swelling
when the moon is full
love is not
a turkey breast to be
chewed and swallowed with champaign
my love is
God’s elixir
let’s drink
together to immortality.
Sabita Sahu.
Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's
DRAUPADI - 72
Draupadi's days were a load on her eyelids
each night of futile hope ended in despair
the forced smiles simulated loyalty
to earn shelter and safety.
Her comfort lay in her daily contact
with her husbands but her lips were sealed,
eyes forbidden to light up in
recognition.
King Virat was kind,
Sudeshna, Uttara were loving,
the other maids were civil
yet Draupadi's feet were never firm.
Her mind was whirling by inner storms
of uncertain fear and betrayal: Only
a stolen word with Arjuna and a pat
by Bhima
reassured her playacting self to move
on.
Often she sat with Sudeshna to watch
Uttara's
dance practice sessions having
stealthy eyefuls
of Brihannala whose pakhauj beats
went
faster making Uttara miss steps
much to the pleasant taunts of
unmanly Arjuna
and he demonstrated the steps waving
his
long plaits causing a glint of
mischievous
joy in Draupadi's eyes unnoticed by
others.
Except such moments of sorrowing
pleasure,
she was mindful of avoiding
attention.
One day during the Navratri at
Sunrise
Draupadi was in the palace garden
plucking
flowers sunkissed and pearl washed
for puja.
Her dainty feet wet on the slippery
grass
the light on her morning face
crimsoned
the oleanders, her long tapering
fingers
soft plucking malati, champak, jui
made the garden hum like ecstatic bees.
At that moment Kichaka appeared
on the balcony of his mansion,
his eyes got stuck on Draupadi's
radiance,
impassioned, he almost ran to the
garden
much to the shock of Draupadi who ran away
when chased by the hungry eyes of
Kichaka
but slipped and fell.
Before Kichaka reached her she sprang
up
and smartly ran into the Queen's chambers,
breathing heavy in profane fear.
Sudeshna heard in mute helplessness
and imagined the rest as she knew her
brother
and anticipated a moral crisis.
However she comforted Sairindri and
went her way.
Kichaka entered his sister's place
where is she he demanded; Sudeshna
pretending innocence asked, who? For
whom
my great brother has come to me so
early
the sun is yet to touch your shining
gear,
who has disturbed your day before it
began?
Don't try to divert my mind sister,
she
that nymph who has just waved into
your chambers, when my eyes fell on
her
I lost my day, she ran away from
my bewitched eyes and pounding heart
a golden deer chased by Madan's shafts -
O brother your wine fumed eyes
are not awake yet,
you are still in your moony lassitude
- Stop Sis,
I saw her enter your chambers,
I am mad sister, I must have her,
I was never love stung by a woman,
save me sis, save me from death:
send her to my place at nightfall, if
not
you know what I can do to Matsya - Brother!
Don't be rash, she is not ordinary,
she is
regal, her modesty should not be
mistaken
as weakness, she is a graceful person
-
Leave her, I will send you others
more voluptuous and artful
for your sensual Night -
No sister send her to me she alone
can regale my life tonight - Don't
forget
my disappointment is a mad fire, if I -
Sudeshna held Kichaka's hand, look
my brother, never berate a woman's
virtues
it will burn you on the pyre of
pride:
Kichaka pushed her - don't madden me,
what virtue, no virtue can save her,
Is she not a woman ! A Woman's virtue
gets redeemed in giving pleasure,
nothing more nothing less- I'll wait for
her -
kichaka rushed out leaving Sudeshna dazed.
See I am
fine: His wish
said mother
but don't do it.
I jumped
from my school balcony
only a few
scratches : His wish
said mother
but never again.
Today I
topped in the class
Good: His
wish said mother
a broad smile lighting her face.
Today father
died, who will
support my
studies: His wish
said mother,
her eyes belching tears.
Mother is
now gone, was it also
His wish to
make me fight alone?
I am now a
pilot - not of a ship
I fly a
fighter plane deep into
enemy
territory, blasting bridges
making
orphans at will,
my love was ruined
by his
disapproval
of my career,
I am homeless:
I live
in a
barrack, greying
I sleep
fitfully, search for
certainties I don't know of what kind.
Is it all
His Wish?
To send me
to orphanages
from town to
town facing faces
all strange
grim and stern
training to
fly in the dark
to rain fire
on homes
to return nowhere?
My body is
steel
mind is
blank
I move by my
strong willpower
determined not to defy the life
given to me
in time and space.
Is it all
His Wish??
Sabita Sahu.
Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's
DRAUPADI - 71
Virat's Palace
King Virat was weak willed and sickly
his authority in administration was
usurped
by Kichaka, Sudeshna's brother,
strong and wild.
Virat wore the crown Kichaka wielded
the sceptre
his word was law, his decree was
final, the Palace
ran to his whims, his lust, his
orgies were
tolerated rather provided for by the
King and Queen.
Without Kichaka Virat was a cipher, his kingdom
was Kichaka's gift, hence the king
was quiet,
took to the dice board as kingdom
substitute.
And now happy to have Kanka as
advisor
in his dice wars with the world to
overcome
his inner conflicts over debased
selfhood.
Draupadi in the simulated comfort of
the palace
missed her five sons, they must have
grown
handsome boys in the care of Sakha
Krishna
must be learning all arts and skills
fit for Princes
but poor me, I couldn't see their
growth,
couldn't teach them mother's alphabet
and the thousand nuances of princely
temper admonished by my stern care to
blossom in integrated civility.
They couldn't feel their father's affection
never knew what parental home was
which people need in the human world.
And my Abhimanyu, Arjuna and
Subhadra's son
how lucky he is to get mother's love
he too missed his father's heroic
affection.
Draupadi's motherly heart sank in
sorrow
tears flew in silent sobs, her legs
failed,
she sat down and wept long -
Sairindri! called Madhulekha,
Princess
Uttara and Queen Sudeshna have sent
for you, go to the queen's chamber
fast.
Draupadi wiped her face, rose smile
painted:
life doesn't stop in tear floods.
When you are so comely, your mistress
the Empress of Aryabarta must be
angelic
in beauty, majestic in bearing, confident
in authority and lavish in royal charity.
Tell me Sairindri, said eager
Sudeshna
how was she as your mistress what did
she
serve her five husbands and how could
she
keep five heroes together without discord
-
Madam, I was a mere maid, I have no
mind
to penetrate the inner chambers of the
Queen.
All I know is what I saw
she was a blue lotus in the morning
a lily at nightfall, purple and pulsating at night.
Yet she was free in spirit like the
air
carrying the flowers and trees and
musk
to awaken sunken souls to lively
bloom,
she spoke music she walked like a
Royal Swan,
she gave unasked without discrimination
-
Ah! You speak poetry Sairindri, you -
No Madam, I speak her language after
so many years of closeness you turn
phrases like my mistress who
befriended
and poured herself out to me in all
seasons of her mind's drought and flood.
Draupadi's routine was to pluck
flowers
at sunrise, string garlands for
deities
attend puja rituals with the Queen
and other errands of the royals
whenever
commanded, she moved like lightning
brightening all faces, her make up
for
Sudeshna and Uttara were eyefilling
yet tasteful new, not new fangled.
Draupadi kept everyone happy,
cheerful
at her efficient promptitude, the
busy bee
humming tunes to make the inner
chambers
resonate with novelty and charm
as though life's balance is calm
redolent.
One day the Queen asked,
Sairindri you have
long hair reaching beyond your thighs
why don't you never oil them, why not
tie them with flowers - Madam
I'll do that when the Pandavas get
back
their legitimate dues and I become
myself
that is when I rejoin Queen Draupadi
as her other self in shadeless
glamour.
Madam when the mind is humourless
the body is a lingering shadow, the
glow
glamour of the world evade laden
eyes.
Draupadi ran away to her chamber
Sudeshna looked pitifully in silence.
I have served my time
I must be released
to my freedom
to know who I am.
The memory of my slavery
my yes sir, no sir, ok sir
I must overlap by
asking others
don’t count your salary
the rental from your houses
or describe your humiliations
to enslave m y sympathy.
I was measured by your yardstick
now I have outgrown that
let me measure my life
with my own yardstick
let me coin words to
manifest them in action
charity, love, public penetration
of irrelevant issues
and make life relevant
meaningful free and fruitfull.
Sabita Sahu
Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's
DRAUPADI - 70
Is man a mere doll in the village
fair,
just mouthing words, swaying
hands and legs to preset beats?
No, how could that be when motivated
by
self preservation and future dreams
we choose what to play and how to
save
life by untangling the self from the
net
of our own making in deviant routes,
to jump ahead to the victory stand?
Draupadi shook her head in disgust
why do I wander in imponderables
when life is mine my role whoever
devised, is mine and I have to play
it
as if I am only an actor - No that's untrue,
my dialogue stems from my needs
desires, modulated by my native wit,
all the consequences of my words and
deeds
are mine and none will partake of it.
I now know life is role playing
whether you write or made to write
the lines.
All emotions are yours, the claps are
yours
the flowers and thorns are yours:
I came as Princess, became wife to
five Pandavas, then Queen and Empress
from Empress to a forest dweller.
I have played so many roles
I have suffered my dark moments
of dishonour and abject humiliation.
Now I have to play a real life maid.
Sairindri I would be to Sudeshna.
From Draupadi to Draupadi's maid,
hairdresser to Virat Queen - Well!
Let me play Draupadi's hairdresser
to the hilt and collect my accolades
from fate's minions in ample measures
to throw them as ill fitting masks of
time.
The Pandavas entered the Virat Palace
Yudhistira as Kanka, the king's
dicemate
an ironical tribute to Yudhistira's
passion to gamble away his own worth.
But now it has come handy to escape
the secret eyes of the enemy.
Bhima joined the Virat kitchen as Cook
his culinary art and his great
appetite
were matched in fortunate
proportions.
Arjuna's transformation into a woman
hurt Draupadi's pride, but there was
no choice.
Urvashi's curse had come to his
relief,
his impotent year matched his form,
he was Brihannala, the dance music
teacher
to the Virat Princess Uttara, simple and
beautiful, eager to learn classical
arts.
Arjuna was intuitively well versed in
dance
he had learnt all arts at Indra's
place.
He knew instruments and was master of
the Pakhauj and Veena which he had
learnt
to discipline his mind for the
practice
of archery without tremors in his
body.
The Aswins looked after the vast
resources
of cows, horses for which Virat was
known.
Their jobs would never invite
attention,
their disguise was too insignificant
to alert roving eyes in the Virat
land.
Draupadi stood facing the mirror
the room was small yet cosy
it wiped off twelve years of memory
of floor, of sleeplessness for fear,
of hunger, of privations, nightmares.
Only the sweet company of empathic
birds, protective rumbles of the wild
the soft shade of cooling trees.
The Ganga, Saraswati waters
sustaining
Life's parched hopes for tomorrow -
Only these memories revived her
drooping
spirits to face this new mirror and
clothes which Alpana would have
rejected.
Yet how royal these Sudeshna wears
feel on my body; No, Sairindri's body
Draupadi's hairdresser now
Sudeshna's.
I am Sairindri I make hair clouds
rain love, beauty and fragrance:
O cursed life! When shall I be
myself?
