Shweta Kumari: Figures of Thought: Collegiate Voices across Spaces

Draupadi
                                       
Hot blazes of fire,
Black clouds of smoke arose
Fiery blazes on sweaty morning
Phoenix like a bird she rose.

Princess of Panchaal, later-
Wife of the Pandavas, she was.
As the great Vyasa christened,
Panchaali she was called.

Proud as Indra, cursing like Durvasa,
Enduring as Sita, and pure as Parvati
Strong and bright she stood,
Enduring all the suffering and atrocity.

Craving for his love, but
Never her faith once quivered
Humiliated each other, when they met
But Karna did it more of all.

Pushed to the court of men
Some with downed heads
And others hungry eyes she met
Stripping her off fold by fold.

Pledge she took, cursing the crows
Never to tie her hair-
Till it bathed with blood of those.
Years of thorn and sweat-

Paced the war of revenge
Losing her father, brother 
And also her sons in the sway
She, till the end, made her way.

Fell off first, again for her love
In the final journey she took.
Dead soul but not her glory
Turned into ash, but all remembered her truly.
***


Ahalya

With the hands of the Supreme
Brahma created her himself
Most beautiful she seemed
As the world beheld her presence.

Jewel like diamond her eyes,
Her lips stole the colour of roses
Silvery hands and face she had
Like the moon in the dark of the night.

All the kings of supreme in kind
Even the Gods of heaven were in line
But The Creator gave her in marriage
To Gautam, the ascetic, to call her mine.

Happily devoted to each other
Drowned in love and faith Ahalya was.
Gautam admired her beauty
But fell in the trap of fate, as cause.

Indra, the King of gods
In desire to possess the most beautiful of all,
 Tried luring her to luxury
  But all his promises went in vain and fall.

Not ready to lose, in guise of Gautam
Indra went with her to bed
Furious on return the ascetic
Cried as a curse, turning her as dead.

Stony the rose stood straight till head
Even Gautam shed tears in his regret.
In his fury, Indra was also not spared
Thousand vulvas erupted as curse in all its pace.

In light of his mistake
As trickery and curse fell on his beloved
Promised her life again,
All she has to do is wait!


Then Rama came near the statue
And stepped his foot
With it the stone vanished, and
The beautiful Ahalya got breath again.
***

Author's Bio:  Shweta Kumari was born and raised in a small city of Ranchi in a state situated in the lap of nature, Jharkhand. She likes to spend her time reading books, writing or dancing. She is a poet and a trained Bharatnatyam dancer though she left the training when she joined for her graduation. She is a graduate in English Literature from St. Xavier's College and is currently pursuing Masters from the same college. Through her poems she wants to try to help people bring out their pent up emotions and love themselves as they are while believing in their self.

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