Sita's test by fire

Sitting in Asoka vatika, 

as the feral war had ended,

she waited for Rama 

to free her from her year long captivity. 

She dreamt of the day she first saw him 

as she walked demurely 

through the palace gardens  

that surrounded the shrine of goddess Parvati.

Her body fragrant with 

nagakesar and jasmine 

and wrapped elegantly in the 

ivory and gold saree that 

reflected the morning sunlight  

as the white lotus filled pools 

radiate the lambent glow of the golden Sun. 

There she saw him walking slowly 

but self-assuredly with eyes of 

the gentlest doe that contrasted those 

fierce ones of the younger and fairer youth 

and also of the Rishi she had known 

since her childhood, accompanying him.

Enthralled she walked to the shrine 

trying to calm her pounding heart, 

ignoring that smile that got etched 

in her thoughts, a smile that bloomed 

a thousand sweet-scented tuberoses 

and made her ache for the dark-skinned 

unknown man in the strangest ways. 

She tried to pray to the goddess 

for marital bliss and a Siva like husband 

But, could only visualise this man. 

As the victory trumpets blew, 

her reverie broke 

and she found herself 

still waiting under Asoka tree 

When would Raghuvar come? 

now her heart was beating wildly 

why doesn't he come and get me? 

As she felt a chill in her bones. 

There, she saw Laxmana, 

her heart filled with remorse 

as she remembered her taunting 

in Panchvati, when he refused to follow 

the cry that was obviously a hoax. 

He came to her with downcast eyes 

and folded hands and before she 

could convey her apologies, 

spoke in an emotion-filled hoarse voice. 

He told her how she had to pass

the test of fire as desired by her Lord 

and prove her chastity to the people 

Of Ayodhya and the entire world. 

She had to prove that Ravan 

didn't desecrate her and still 

She was the flower worthy of 

adorning an exalted altar. 

Her heart cried in agony 

but her eyes turned to stones

as she walked calmly 

through the forest of leaping flames. 

She emerged out unharmed 

to the loud chants of devotees

who having witnessed a miracle

now sang paeans to her fidelity. 

As she saw Rama, now openly crying 

welcoming her with arms wide open

Her mind couldn't get rid of the image 

of Siva carrying the charred corpse of Sati 

and dancing his angry Tandava 

as nothing soothed his excruciating pain. 

- Neha Bansal

 

(published in "Vibrant Voices : an anthology of 21st century women poets" edited by Seema Jain and published by Sahitya Akademi)

Birth control

With one quick thrust 

he rolled off her 

grunting with satisfaction 

and soon snoring away blissfully 

as his potent seed is deposited 

deep inside her. 

The mother of two twists and turns 

sick with worry, 

ordering morning after pills 

from the nearest pharmacy 

to avoid turning her womb 

into yet another grave.   

- Neha Bansal

Mandodari's lament

 For her, you burnt  the entire world,

A cornucopia of golden dreams,

where the verdure of the paddy fields

reflected in the sunfilled plentiful streams.

The days were full of a myriad flowers,

and the fireflies lit up the darkest skies.

The emerald green of our splendid isle 

Was filled with our children's gleeful cries.

Where Apsaras danced in our great halls 

and the famous artists vied with each other.  

Where Meghnada performed brave feats 

While Akshay and little Trishira brought 

a thousand smiles to their doting mothers. 

And then you brought her to our land,

The wailing wife of a prince-wanderer!

What madness had seized you 

to stake our dreams at the altar of your desire?

Ten thousand you had in your harem,

each melting in a hopeless longing.

Each woman, a prize you had won!

The priceless wives and concubines.

Was she really the prettiest of us all?

Or, even the most noble of birth?

What made you burn with such yearning 

for a girl, said to be born from earth?

And for her, you sacrificed it all.

The boisterous teenage of our youngest son.

And, banished your only righteous brother 

who tried to make some sense. 

You didn't hear the cries of new brides

Or saw those slender bangle-less arms.

Neither could you feel the heat of the pyres 

Nor, smell the blighted unattended crops 

that laid waste in our once glorious farms. 

One after the other, the heroes fell 

As continued the macabre dance of war. 

But, you refused my pleading counsels 

even when kumbhkaran's body began to char. 

The vanquisher of Indra went down next

But your stubborn pride refused to yield.

As you rejected the divinity of Rama,

And jumped ten-headed into the battlefield.

Was it lust,  ego or unbriddled pride 

that eclipsed the light of your mind?

What was that kingly hubris 

that made you so erringly blind?

And now you lay so still 

As your widows line up by the pyre 

And the toddler grandson of yours 

unsteadily holds the torch of fire. 

- Neha Bansal

Renuka

 The air stilled

And above the horizon

toppled an urn of deep crimson.

The sun blushed and hid 

Behind the billowing clouds. 

The larks stopped midflight 

Or, so they seemed 

no more eager to return to their nests.

Little periwinkles recoiled in horror 

and the garden lizards turned grey 

Matching the colour of the ancient stone, 

as he severed my head.

My brave last born,

the famous wielder of  the axe,

the avatar of Vishnu

To appease his infallible father,

Brimming with a righteous anger

Against a wife, who in a fleeting 

thought, desecrated his hearth.

Born to a king, but wedded to a seer 

my heart never yearned for those royal things.

I proudly birthed five sons 

And glowed forever in blissful domesticity. 

I cooked our meals,  

drew rangoli by the door

Rubbed stove ashes on pots 

and scrubbed floor.

Doing a thousand little chores 

And seeing them grow

Fanning everyone to sleep 

Was the sweetest thing.

I woke up before the sun

And saw it rise 

everyday by the bank of Malaprabha. 

The river of life energized me 

and the primeval Ramshrunga hills 

bore witness to the daily miracle.

When Renuka, the daughter of a king

And the chaste wife of Jamdagni 

Pulled the feat like no other.

Through the power of devotion to him alone 

And a burning steadfast concentration,

I could cajole the grains of sand

into a remarkable unbaked vessel.

In this worthy pot, I carried the water

For the man worthier then any other.

Those hard days of labour

have always been the dearest

As I absorbed the warmth 

of the taap he radiated.

The lambent glow of love for him

warmed me to the core.

And I happily went about my days

Till fireflies came home.

But one fateful day it was,

When my pride was pulverized,

And a glimpse of the gandharva pair 

pushed my chaste thoughts aside.

The abandon of sheer love making

unhinged the bolt of my upright mind.

It took me a few seconds to recover

And I banished away the filth 

and as I chastised  myself 

My eyes welled up in guilt.

A good woman doesn't ever desire

No! no! no! I have grossly erred.

And no matter how I tried

My my hands couldn't conjure an urn. 

The river failed to help me

And the Sun seemed to mock 

as I desperately clutched the grains 

And repeatedly cursed myself.

I knew he was omniscient

And could see my walk of shame.

He ordered his five sons

To drag the harlot by her mane. 

"Kill her! Decapitate her!!

She deserves to die!!!

No good woman does ever dare 

To think what she thought by riverside.

Women are but passive vessels

To hold the brave seeds

She will corrupt your wives' minds 

And soon they will talk about their needs."

The sons hung their heads in shame 

Oh yes, the father was so right,

But matricide is surely excessive  

they trembled at the father's side.

One by one, they dared to speak

Only to be petrified.

As the wrath of my husband burgeoned 

at this disobedient slight,

My last born, then came forward

Supplicated to the seething rishi

Who couldn't now be mollified. 

With one swift movement, he did it 

and didn't spare me even a glance 

And then shed copious tears 

as his heart broke into pieces.

The rishi placated now,

granted him a wish. 

And the great warrior definitely

asked for what was obvious.

The four brothers and I

Came back to life

And then I was forgiven by each great man

But a piece inside me died.

- Neha Bansal