A Blog about Books and Life.
Bestowing sunshine of love, laughter, wisdom and wonder on the blue clouds of dullness and despair, enabling to find the silver lining of grit, gratitude, hope and happiness.
वो रुपहली सांझ आये स्वप्न वन में झूलने को मन की व्यथाएं भूलने को, स्नेह का मधुमास छाए वो रुपहली ....
मन-धरा के भाव उर्वर कृतित्व के उन्नत शिखर पर, यश-विधु फिर मुस्कुराये वो रुपहली ......
निर्दोष कौतुक के वसन में
मन के सूने प्रांगण में प्रणय दीपक जगमगाए
वो रुपहली सांझ आये
रुपहली सांझ - the argent, silvery dusk मधुमास - the honeysweet time उर्वर - prolific कृतित्व - creativity, vision निर्दोष - innocent, naive कौतुक - childlike wonder वसन - cloth. here attire यश-विधु - the moon of glory सूने - empty, lonely प्रणय - romance, love Wishing for this argent dusk to descend and liquidate the sorrows into its silver depths. Wishing the dark night to fall to embrace the ugliness of life and switch on the twinkling stars of hope. Wishing the earthen lamp of love to be kindled, so what, if by a transient spark ? Wishing the innocent childlike wonder to stay, the faith to take a deep hold, make the night earth glow under the lambent moon. Harsh unmasking sunrays are still a dream or two away. Wishes.. for life:)
The Haiku and the Tanka are written for the audio prompt given by dear friendRavish Maniwho created the prompt on my special request .. ahem-ahem :)
I chose to portray the bridal joy and anticipation, as the audio gave me the ambivalent feeling of happiness and nervousness at the same time. Irrespective of her age and education, a bride is essentially a girl going to become a responsible person, an epitome of grace, dignity and maturity just in that distance from her maternal abode to her in-law's home. Half aware of it, the hurt childhood hesitates but refuses to budge, while the dreams of ensuing future spur her towards that image of rosy bliss. And there she wonders at the Threshold.... a sweet dilemma!
pancakanyah smaren nityaṃ mahāpātakanāśakam ॥ Early in my life, I heard this shloka of the 'Pratah Smarneeya Panch Kanya' which says that Draupadi, Ahilya, Tara, Seeta and Kunti/Mandodari are the five holy virgins and by chanting their names first thing in the morning our sins are abated. It made me realize the futility of adornments. The hollowness of words. Those who were mauled and molested to be called eternal virgins! Somewhat like the Nirbhaya Act of our times.Where we fail on all grounds of humanity and morality, when we found ourselves worse than barbaric animals, we try to heal (?) and replenish by making the victims sit on a pedestal, converting them into saints, angels, Devis and martyrs. There are innumerable examples of female stereotyping, but for me, it goes deeper than that. The basic reason for it seems to be the ability to give life which a woman possesses and a man does not. Perhaps this deep rooted insecurity of this power of her goaded him to create rules and traditions.This deep-set insecurity is in the psyche, as well as in the genes. So, she is either a Goddess, the pious and the giving one, benign, smiling benevolently, patient and forgiving OR a witch, the bloodthirsty one, selfish, conniving, sly and scheming. A Total terror. Nowhere is she accepted as Manvi .. the Human. A person. A person having small dreams and moderate aspirations. Lakhs of men can survive a dull life of daily drudgery with aplomb, but for a woman to be happy being just a teller is looked down upon! She needs to prove herself by being nothing less than a Kiran Mazumdar Shaw or an Indira Nooyi. Otherwise, her education is a waste!
She is not accepted as a person with human weaknesses and human follies. Not allowed to falter in speech, dressing and behaviour!
It made me wary of being good or bad actually, of being labelled. I was determined to be happy. To take responsibility for my mistakes and credits of my heroic deeds which I seem to perform left, right and centre! (Yeah yeah, I am still pretty good there.) I also felt most males as a bundle of clueless energy, not knowing in which direction they ought to run but I never felt them being better or lesser than females. They were just different..well, slightly. Hence, I faced the discrimination , the mindset, the stereotyping simply as a human and not as a female. I have actually taught myself that. Not to mind such comments/questions like, You are a late riser? Don't you like cooking? You like wandering aimlessly? yak-yak .. Yes. I am an owl who likes to burn the midnight oil and why don't you take charge of the morning chores if YOU are an early riser? I enjoy cooking but I don't feel an adrenalin rush to realize that I have to be in the kitchen five times a day daily, like Forever! Munshi Premchand once said, "If some traits of a male come in a female she becomes demonic and if the female traits enter in a male, he attains godliness." Do not misinterpret it as he simply meant that The Perfect Raymond's Man, The Ideal Suitable Boy, when imbibes only a few of the feminine traits like of compassion, unending affection and patience, he becomes God! Urvashi, our very own celestial nymph has said that to Pururva, her heroic and valiant lover, who was so smitten with her that in order to invoke her soft feelings he went on for days singing about his own heroic deeds! To which she simply replied - *देवालय में देव नहीं केवल मैं हूँ मेरी प्रतिमा को घेर उठ रही अगरु गंध बज रहा अर्चना में मेरी, मेरा नूपुर Meaning it's the masculine energy adorned with the feminine nature which makes him complete - a God from a warrior. Without her, he is just a doer, an achiever ..with 'her' he becomes a creator. The feminine energy is that elixir which is said to be dripping from the hood of the deadliest venomous pythons and snakes, protecting them from their own poison. So I give two pence to dress up according to the in-thing and not even one paisa to be considered as an 'in-sync' person. I simply can not afford to care! I am the only sari-clad bahu in my entire family including the extended khandan.. simply because as a child I used to see my mother get ready for college in smooth shiny silks, pastel chiffons and crisp cottons with peacocks sauntering on her hems and creepers dangling coyly on the pallav! No one, including my strict and ultra-modern mum-in-law, could put me off from getting decked up in sarees! I would drape the whole six yard (anyhow) and emerge confidently to face the world rather dazedly pass through the world, as I used to be too engrossed in adoring the softness of the saree, the colours which make me feel as if I had draped myself in a piece of sky or am in Eden with flowers blooming shyly all over me! And for a full one year, I have teamed-up my sarees with a pair of powder blue running shoes! Don't ask why as that was the need of the hour..err.. year. They were cute as a blue bunny but for some reasons unknown, the neighbourhood aunties at my in-law's home felt otherwise and found them to be hideous! *rolling eyes* Obviously, I did not pay heed. I was and still am too busy living this one life to the fullest.
It does not matter to me if the world knows about Tandava only, as I know the Lasya. The extremely soft dance of Parvati, the dance of grace and beauty, which she performs in response to Shiva's roudra Tandava - the dance of destruction. It's through Lasya that she harbours the seeds of life, protects the fauna, nourishes it with her tears of love and caress the scorched black earth back to life. I firmly believe in that part of the balance and no one can stereotype me for it. Unless of course, I am willing to be.
* In the temple it's not the Lord, but I The incense fragrance encircles my idol, The bell of my anklet tinkles in the worship of I The Post is written as my views on Being Woman for my dear friend and fellow blogger Dr. Kiran Acharya. To read her wonderful post talking about gender stereotyping vist HERE. Her post is studded with nuggets of wisdom from some of us women bloggers, which we have experienced, gathered or wilfully lost !. I am indebted to Kiran for this beautiful initiative :)
Image Courtesy: Here
आओगी जब तुम जान जाऊंगा मैं चटकेंगी कलियां और फूल खिलेंगे। हवा होगी जैसे तेरा महका आँचल, थपक देगी मुझको सितारों की झिलमिल सुनाएगी लोरी थपकते-थपकते, ये चाँद हंसेगा और तारे दमकेंगे। सूरज भी चमकेगा निखर -निखर कर पेड़ों पे हरे-हरे पत्ते निकलेंगे आओगी जब तुम जान जाऊँगा मैं, ठुमक-ठुमक नयें चूज़े चलेंगे ! झूमेगा सावन, गरज- गरज कर इन्द्रधनुष के रंग बिखरेंगे गगन होगा नीला जरा और ज्यादा, धरा पर अबीरी रंग उतरेंगे आओगी जब तुम जान जाऊंगा मैं झट से, क्योंकि आँसू नहीं तब मोती बरसेंगे।
Love makes us infinite. Or is it imagination? My above effort of a poem stands true for every child, but it's for those small ones who wait in orphanages, who are too young to grasp the reality, to understand the futility of their hope and hold this image so close to their heart, cherish it and nurture it daily with newer embellishments. So certain and inventive are they in this 'waiting'. Always sure .. that it's just a matter of time when like movies, their mother will embosom them forever. Till then, no one dares to strike a jarring note in their dream symphony.
चटकेंगी कलियां- crackling of buds लोरी - lullaby थपकना - shush patting, to make one sleep सितारों - stars झिलमिल - twinkling निखर-निखर = bright, radiant धरा - earth ठुमक-ठुमक = strutting walk अबीरी रंग - fragrant colour (specially red and silver ) or fragrance