MA SITA: MELODY OF SORROW

Boudhayan Mukherjee

Boudhayan Mukherjee

I kneel down for yoga,chanting Om Arogyam

Wake up the hills, the fragrant words

For I shall chant from the Gita of Ma Sita

To please my deity . I will move towards

The Circle of Hope.At dusk Ma Sita sleeps

Poised at the feet of her forested Lord.  

My heart weeps to belong to Her. 

Her words keep me dim and happy, the flying Jatayu borne to earth by imagination. I can hear her talking about rice for migrant labourers, their lentil soup ,wheat broth , radish 

And roots when they return to Janakpur,

Her papa's kingdom,my own childhood home.

I'll keep a pinch of lost smell of home for me,

A steam of boiling rice to soothe my eyes.

I tell you this , a Brahmin--Dwija--born twice;

I tell you all ,that sadness is not divine. Rise!

Rise of Ram temple is over

 and the Lord has

Returned to Ayodhya as a child.

 Ma Sita will

Arrive , patience was her forte all life.

Really?

It failed at last and she drowned 

herself underground,

sans the jihad of women power.

Ma Sita to me is

 the best manna of Ramayana

Queen of Ayodhya living in exile 

alone like a single mother 

to bring up two lovely sons. 

 Did Lav Kush often pester her

 about their sire...

What did the forgotten woman

 say to the kids

Not much to lament,but gave them 

bows and arrows 

Of memory silenced 

by shame and disgrace.

We have millions of Ma Sitas in India 

They must go and rejoice when she returns.

When her glories are templed

 Next to the Ram-mandir.

 

---

Setu, February 2024