Complexion that shone as the rain-bearing sky,
The cascading tresses and those lotus-like eyes,
The ripe-red lips that caused every fruit’s bow,
The bow-shaped lashes on a winsome brow,
The neck that hath wrested the grace of a conch,
Her youthful laughter, what music did it launch,
The great archer arches to Her rapturous smile,
Her blue-lotus fragrance that rules over miles,
The flaw-less skin about her creeper like frame,
Was she the Creator, or Creator’s Divine game?
Such was Krishnaa the Princess of Panchal!
Notes:
..rain bearing sky - She was dark complexioned(hence called Krishnaa)
..caused every fruit's bow - Lips so red that they won the admiration of the most ripe fruits
The great archer arches.. - Arjuna who bows to her highly attractive smile
..Fragrance that rules over miles - She blessed with a fragrance that spread over miles
(hence she was called yojanagandha)
Dark complexioned, yet glowing, bestowed with flawless features, Draupadi was an unparalleled beauty. The beauty stunned every person who met her, beyond measures. That combined with her immense intelligence, mastery over arts, political science and all so well balanced with touching nobility and humility- the perfection was nothing short of Divine.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
He-She
Speaker 1:
May big things have all our intersest,
Yet may happiness come from small things.
It is a palm full of water that serves the thirsty, best,
though inspirations are drawn from the sight of springs.
Speaker 2:
May big things have all our intersest,
Yet may happiness come from small things.
Though what filled his two palms gave him zest,
It's what slipped between fingers that set his spirits to wings.
Which among the two verses could be perhaps spoken by a male?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Vicious circle
“The love that my heart bears for her, my maiden,
is as strong as that the deathbed bears for life”.
“Who among the maiden and life has thy love laden,
I am here to grant thee that, that wins this strife”
Translation:
Lover boy: I love her as much as I would love life when on deathbed.
God of Death: Her or life, you better make up your mind. What you love most will be granted to you!
What a vicious circle? What should our lover boy choose?
My train of thoughts after I listened to “Hum tumhe chahte hain aise…”
is as strong as that the deathbed bears for life”.
“Who among the maiden and life has thy love laden,
I am here to grant thee that, that wins this strife”
Translation:
Lover boy: I love her as much as I would love life when on deathbed.
God of Death: Her or life, you better make up your mind. What you love most will be granted to you!
What a vicious circle? What should our lover boy choose?
My train of thoughts after I listened to “Hum tumhe chahte hain aise…”
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Why I cannot say goodbye!
Prelude:
The world resides in the clandestine chambers,
Of the heart that hath witnessed its visual game.
Just as steady heat that resides in silent embers,
For long after the winds had consumed the flames.
________________________________________________
Long before thee penned thy farewell verse,
Hadn’t thee imprisoned this heart by thy ply?
Now, thou art the deity that my soul nurses,
Where is reason for the prospect of goodbye?
This heart, in longing misses its beat,
At every instance it hears your name.
Aren’t thou, who thus have taken a seat
Within me, a silent spectator of this game?
Like the magnet that holds to iron pieces,
To charge and galvanize their very frames,
Thou art held me by thy memories’ tresses,
Now, there is no escape from this sweet blame.
Destiny that banished me from thy presence,
Did only fill my every pore with thy thoughts.
The wicked wind could only spread her fragrance,
When to kidnap the flower was his callous sought.
Yes, thou would reside in me just as heat would in the embers, and hence, where is the reason to say goodbye!
A good friend of mine finds himself in a position to say a goodbye that he just cannot get himself to. This post is a message to him.
The world resides in the clandestine chambers,
Of the heart that hath witnessed its visual game.
Just as steady heat that resides in silent embers,
For long after the winds had consumed the flames.
________________________________________________
Long before thee penned thy farewell verse,
Hadn’t thee imprisoned this heart by thy ply?
Now, thou art the deity that my soul nurses,
Where is reason for the prospect of goodbye?
This heart, in longing misses its beat,
At every instance it hears your name.
Aren’t thou, who thus have taken a seat
Within me, a silent spectator of this game?
Like the magnet that holds to iron pieces,
To charge and galvanize their very frames,
Thou art held me by thy memories’ tresses,
Now, there is no escape from this sweet blame.
Destiny that banished me from thy presence,
Did only fill my every pore with thy thoughts.
The wicked wind could only spread her fragrance,
When to kidnap the flower was his callous sought.
Yes, thou would reside in me just as heat would in the embers, and hence, where is the reason to say goodbye!
A good friend of mine finds himself in a position to say a goodbye that he just cannot get himself to. This post is a message to him.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Bheeshma and Karna - II
In the design of death by Sun’s northern motion,
Was a meeting arranged with His earthly son.
With his body in pain and heart in devotion,
Bheeshma lay awaiting the call of Capricon.
Bheeshma:
“Who art thou that thus burns my feet
with tears, more than these missiles would ply?
Rise and by my crown, pray take thy seat,
For, what art a conversation that not eye to eye?”
Karna:
“Oh Sire, I rather face thy gracious feet,
for in meeting thy eye, thy disapproval, I fear.
Pray pardon this act, as imprudence, I entreat.
This is unworthy Karna – the son of a Charioteer.
From a dark cloud carrying years of unexpressed love,
That were driven by the winds of reason so peculiar,
Onto the palms of Karna as barren as wood stove,
As a torrential monsoon, fell Bheeshma’s tears.
Bheeshma:
“What imprudence lies in a grandson’s yearn,
for the rightful seat on his Grandsire’s knee?
Those wretched denials to Kunti’s noblest scion,
Was to rid him off his friendship’s cursed spree!”
“For it is thy prowess that hath fueled the prince with pride,
to design a war against he, whom the Lord Himself sides.
Walk across, O beloved Karna, to virtue’s open gates,
This ocean of blood is still shallow enough for a wade.”
Karna:
“Oh wise sire, where is virtue in deserting the hand,
that fed this being that even a mother found unsafe?
For me, betrothed to death, so enticing and grand,
What wisdom in bowing to the petty maiden called life?”
Bheeshma:
“Yes, death is certain as certain is night,
to all we, who dared the Blessed Lord’s might.
But O Karna, may you find all that in Paradise,
What Earth failed you, from all her riches’ guise.”
Karna:
“May my beloved prince know Karna – his companion,
and know not Karna – Pandavas’s foremost scion.”
Bheeshma:
“Its only when the Sun sets on his glorious son,
would Earth know of Karna’s selfless loyalty.
In bloody Kurukshetra where a crown is to be won,
The spirit of Karna would be its unsung novelty.”
Just spoke Karna and walked back to his tent. He spent the next few days in high-end warfare against his own brothers, the Pandavas, till he met with a glorious death. Such was Karna, one of the noblest, the bravest, yet most cursed warriors of his times.
Was a meeting arranged with His earthly son.
With his body in pain and heart in devotion,
Bheeshma lay awaiting the call of Capricon.
Bheeshma:
“Who art thou that thus burns my feet
with tears, more than these missiles would ply?
Rise and by my crown, pray take thy seat,
For, what art a conversation that not eye to eye?”
Karna:
“Oh Sire, I rather face thy gracious feet,
for in meeting thy eye, thy disapproval, I fear.
Pray pardon this act, as imprudence, I entreat.
This is unworthy Karna – the son of a Charioteer.
From a dark cloud carrying years of unexpressed love,
That were driven by the winds of reason so peculiar,
Onto the palms of Karna as barren as wood stove,
As a torrential monsoon, fell Bheeshma’s tears.
Bheeshma:
“What imprudence lies in a grandson’s yearn,
for the rightful seat on his Grandsire’s knee?
Those wretched denials to Kunti’s noblest scion,
Was to rid him off his friendship’s cursed spree!”
“For it is thy prowess that hath fueled the prince with pride,
to design a war against he, whom the Lord Himself sides.
Walk across, O beloved Karna, to virtue’s open gates,
This ocean of blood is still shallow enough for a wade.”
Karna:
“Oh wise sire, where is virtue in deserting the hand,
that fed this being that even a mother found unsafe?
For me, betrothed to death, so enticing and grand,
What wisdom in bowing to the petty maiden called life?”
Bheeshma:
“Yes, death is certain as certain is night,
to all we, who dared the Blessed Lord’s might.
But O Karna, may you find all that in Paradise,
What Earth failed you, from all her riches’ guise.”
Karna:
“May my beloved prince know Karna – his companion,
and know not Karna – Pandavas’s foremost scion.”
Bheeshma:
“Its only when the Sun sets on his glorious son,
would Earth know of Karna’s selfless loyalty.
In bloody Kurukshetra where a crown is to be won,
The spirit of Karna would be its unsung novelty.”
Just spoke Karna and walked back to his tent. He spent the next few days in high-end warfare against his own brothers, the Pandavas, till he met with a glorious death. Such was Karna, one of the noblest, the bravest, yet most cursed warriors of his times.
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