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)

writing back to the centre

from: classical telugu poetry - an anthology

edited and translated by: v narayana Rao and david Schulman

Sita

Sita was my classmate

she and i pored over

that great new poem the Ramayana

of Satyanarayana

when we were finished I asked her

looking ar her thoughtful eyes:

"You listened to the whole story

we followed Rama

with the swiftness of poetry

into the wilderness of ancient times

we met him, went, to the forest with him,

we saw him

kill Bali from behind the tree

and test his wife by fire

Now tell me, do you want to 

live like sita, the wife of hero Rama?

When she heard me, she said:

"hey Pratabhi

Sita is the very epitome of

Indian womanhood

Its a dream, having

the good fortune

to live like her

But even if I want to be Sita

I'd never want to be Rama's wife

tell me, would you ever want to be 

Rama yourself?"

why should I, when you don't want

to be Rama's wife?

My desire, rather is to become Ravana.

with all my ten mouths

I will kiss your lips, your face. I will

bind you

with the gaze of my twenty eyes

I will press you to my chest

with twenty strong arms

and make you one with me

in one embrace 

Now,

Sita is my wife

                          - pratabhi (1919- )

isn't it interesting?? here Pratabhi, the poet wins the hand of "sita", who'd prefer to be Ravana's wife and not Rama's. What we see here is the subversion of a Grand Narrative built over a myriad years that all hindu women would  naturally and blissfully want to chant the hymn to gauri and fast on to ensure a Rama like husband. The test by fire to which sita is subjected  and insensate machinations to kill Bali on the part of Rama is contrasted with the pratabhi's passionate "Ravana role-playing"..

These little subversions here and there perhaps make life less tyrannical with those little gaps to be filled with all those hitherto supressed voices. Writing back to the centre hence becomes one of the greatest freedom that a writer representing the voice of "the other" can enjoy. And the hitherto "infallible" fortresses of the given narratives become less formidable to scale.

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