Shrupnakha's forlorn song

How I wish I had known 

what stony hearts lay 

In those fair Aryan bosoms.

I would have nipped 

the very bud in my heart 

that bloomed a blue lotus 

Matching the magical hue of his skin.

I would have reined in my mind 

that galloped away like a wild stallion, 

Eager to touch those hard sinews, 

as he effortlessly chopped the firewood. 

Instead, I let a hundred peacocks dance 

spreading their colourful tails in monsoon,

mesmerised at the soothing sound 

Of his rain like voice.

And, I smelled a thousand jasmine flowers,

As they swung in the zephyrous breeze,  

when he moved about the modest hermitage.

And I let my heart beguile me,

Drinking in to world's headiest wine of love 

I unabashedly declared my desire.

But, his dark eyes were hard diamonds 

as he coldly doused my heart's fire.

He told me he was married,

and lived happily with his wife 

And had sworn himself 

to that puny woman alone,

For atleast, till the end of this life. 

I didnt understand his rejection 

As my voluptuous body far superior to hers 

Was wanted even by immortals 

that reigned from the blue firmament above. 

And here I offered him a slice of my heart 

as I was taken in by his quiet demeanour 

I just wanted to quench my heart

With the shower of his affections.

What he said next enraged me 

And I was soon seething with anger. 

He welcomed me to offer my charms 

to his even handsomer brother. 

His brother laughed sardonically,

and his wife's jeering eyes locked with mine.

They treated me like a common whore 

And continued with their contemptuous laughter,

But it was the scornful pride in her eyes 

that totally drove me insane thereafter. 

And, I leapt at her bare-handed,

Just to scare the mocking smile off her 

when Lakshmana hacked my nose and ears 

to teach lesson to the likes of me forever. 

It hurt me so to be  violated like that

When not mere body but soul gasped in pain

Couldn't an evolved man like Rama 

have counselled me out of my baser obsession?

And the learned brother of mine 

Instead of avenging my shame like a man, 

Stole another man's wife by creating illusions, 

An act so unkingly and of misplaced passion.

Having lost my ephemeral beauty,

I was even robbed of my character 

As the Aryan mythmakers called me 

the reason for the ensuing man-slaughter. 

No one ever understood my pain when

Not only was I stripped of my good looks,  

But, also deprived of my birth-name Meenakshi.  

I went down in history as a wanton Rakshasi,

Not the Lankan princess of a noble birth 

But a much mocked farcical stock character

Who wandered the enchanting forests 

and died by the lonely brooks. 

- Neha Bansal