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Yes, I said, many times over
I know not what direction
My love will take
And in what ways it will express
Itself in time.

For love is a visitor
residing in us in many forms
fluidly traveling in directions
beyond our control.

What if –
What I feel for you is love
Not caged in the boundaries
Of our bodies?

At one time
We made love in darkness
Pulling the curtains over
So that only our bodies
Expressed what we felt in our hearts.

Then, we made out
In broad day light
When both of us could see
each other’s bodies and face
We had moved from darkness to light we said.

But now sitting in Silence
over distances
when we both can see
only the impression we made on camera
posted on Facebook…

What if
With our eyes closed
over distances
with neither our hands
or our legs intertwined
we still do what we used to do
In darkness and in light of day…

What if
As pure energy
we still meet
In spaces that defy
Boundaries and definitions …

Would our orgasm
be tremours that last forever
and eternity?
Or would our energies commune
In silence while we sit still
Grasping each other in our thoughts
And say,

We made love.

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Rain drenched forests

And reasoned roads

Lead to anti-thesis of goals


It might have rained emotions

All night through

The rain drenched

Leaves of the mind look

Fresh and green

But reasoned roads

Colour the vision

To the hues of sunset

At early dawn

Alas! Rain drenched forests

And reasoned roads

Lead to anti-thesis of goals

*Sigh*

Image

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“Radha
immortal lover girl,
Survivor in love’s hustings,
against all odds,
I like to think
that on some days at least
you felt above it all.
Seeing in his many loves
only myriad reflections
of your own mystic
feminine power.”

– Poet Manjul Bajaj, poem Radha:
  Book: Here and Now, Volume I Pg. 410-411

Veiled. Hidden. Secret. Mysterious.

Radha, symbol of the feminine energy, silent, yet speaking volumes. Always behind the purdah, yet so very conspicuous.

What is so unique about this?

Poet after poet has spoken of the mysterious engagement we have with the feminine energy, because it is shy, concealed, we seek it. Because it is silent, we want to hear its voice, because it is behind the purdah, we are anxious to reveal it to ourselves.

Radha, the feminine energy, exists forever. She is primordial. She haunts us perpetually.

She attracts the opposite, the masculine energy, purusha, which is drawn irresistibly to her from its position of detached observation, pure Awareness.

But tarry, the true meaning of the poem, or its ultimate transcendence over all other thoughts on Radha, lies in the fact that while for centuries we have believed that it is Radha, the feminine energy, which entices the stationary, detached purusha to herself, like Parvati, dancing in front of Shiva, which stirred him out of his trance, in fact, the truth is that she is only being herself; it is the active energy in purusha, which is drawn to her, because it needs an anchor in her. Why else, would purusha, believed to be so self-contained, detached, resting in pure Awareness, find the need to move at all?

We are in the habit of thinking that purusha is still, when the opposite is the fact.

And inevitably, Radha, knows in her heart, the fine art of luring: she casts her magic wand around the stationary, unmoving masculine energy, thereby weaving a mysterious web around him, an enchantment that sets him in motion. He moves, unable to hold himself back. His stationery position is long lost as he unwittingly enmeshes himself in her.

He will never be the same again. He will then move in time, trying to re-discover his own identity all over again, in his rebellious ways –

He will break free. He will chase many. He will conquer many too. However, he will never be able to shake off Radha’s hangover. Perpetually moving from one to the other, again and again finding himself, caught in the perennial web of Radha, the feminine energy.

For ages the fallacy has continued…. Purusha is what one must seek, strive for. Purusha, the detached Aloneness, is the goal of life. The secret lies with Radha – purusha himself is striving hard to set himself free from the bondage of Radha.

On and on, time after time, thus striving for ages, seeking freedom from one Radha, to find yet another, on and on, determined to set free, but bound yet again with Radha.

The genius of the poem lies in the fact that it highlights the opposite of what we believe, it challenges the thought we are have developed our comfort zone around. And so it brings out the rebel in us.

We may fight the newness of thought – that, it is the feminine energy, which is stationery, the still, the undisturbed – only till we accept the failure of what we believed before.

It is after all purusha, who is in movement, at one time caught in her web of mystery and then chasing Radha in her many forms in others as well. It is purusha who has to rest and find his stillness. But alas! This is not to be. The world cannot cease. It must go on, and hence purusha will forever, move from one Radha to another, never resting, forever moving, moving, moving. Finding in every newness, the old.

Why then must Radha drop a tear –

“Seeing in his many loves
only myriad reflections
of your own mystic
feminine power.”

The wired mesh holds fish from the sea struggling to return to the water. But the ferryman knows that the struggle will at some point cease as the fish resigns to its destiny. It will rest forever. In Radha, the feminine energy.

Radha

Tell me Radha
were you really above it all?
Did not thoughts of Rukmini and Satyabhama
irk you
or twist your insides out?
Did not the gaggle of giggling gopis
around your Kanha
rent a tear
in the skin just above your heart?
Did not sniveling Draupadi’s
damsel-in-distress calls
to one who was supposedly your knight
in shining aura
make you jealously wonder
about what he meant to her
or she to him?
And did you not once wish that
that maudlin Meera-come-lately
would shut up and go away
taking her bleating bhajans with her?

 

 

Radha,

immortal lover girl,

survivor in love’s hustings,

against all odds,

I like to think

that on some days at least

you felt above it all:

seeing in his many loves

only myriad reflections

of your own mystic

feminine power.

I like to think of you

laughing to yourself-

a quiet, gentle laugh-

about that idiot man of yours

who thought himself a God.

 

 Other poems by Manjul Bajaj: http://manjulbajaj.blogspot.com/

To read more of Manjul Bajaj, google search Manjul Bajaj

Listen to her on YouTube LIVE!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWZ0MtuY_wg

 

Note: The thoughts expressed here are entirely the author’s. The poet’s verse is an instrument of inspiration. The poet herself is in no way responsible for the author’s interpretation of the poem. 

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