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
