My 100th post - Porphyria's lover


I started my blog with a prayer to Muse on Jan 7, 2008.

I wanted my 100th post to be special... special to me. Though I call my scribbles poems, I love to read poems from a old poetry collection of mine.

Porphyria's lover by Robert Browning is the one I go to, when I am distressed, when I am happy and when I am anything in between.

Publishing the poem here, my way of sharing it to my readers.

My friend read it out for me and I am adding that record here, he had given life to this poem. "Thank you so much and God bless you dear. You can't even guess how happy you made me! Thanks for your time."

But his first reaction was, "The guy is crazy and you call this poem your favourite?". Yes. It's a favourite poem of mine, the hero of the poem behaves like a psycho. But the delivery of this poem and the shock we get out of those lines is where Browning's success lie. The anger and helplessness we feel is what Browning set out to achieve and he did just that.

It goes this way!

Poetry recital



Porphyria's lover


THE rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listen'd with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneel'd and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soil'd gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And call'd me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I look'd up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipp'd me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily opened her lids: again
Laugh'd the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untighten'd next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blush'd bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propp'd her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorn'd at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gain'd instead!
Porphyria's love: she guess'd not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirr'd,
And yet God has not said a word!

-Robert Browning

Hopes forlorn











The sleepless nights I had then, 
I had something to dream about, 
Hope waiting at the end of the tunnel, 
The life I loved, waiting out there to live. 

I had known, the dreams won't last, 
Not forever, not for a score, 
Yet, I hoped my hope won't desert, 
Now that it did, I stopped to think. 

The sleepless nights I have now, 
I have nothing to dream about, 
Hope forlorn, no light in vicinity, 
My life I lead, hollow and ridden of life. 

Before the world shuts down for me


I wish to keep turning pages, 
One page every day, 
I will pen a line on every page, 
It will start with your name and
End with yours, 
Everything in between is our story of love. 
The pages may age, 
My hands may wither, 
The writing shaky, 
Your name scrawled, 
But, I will continue 
Till the last page or my last day. 
You will be the end of my story, 
Your name will be the last I utter. 
My only prayers to the great lord, 
That you hear my last whisper and
Your face is the last I should see. 
When my eyes close gently, 
I would still fight to get another glimpse, 
Another glimpse, 
And another, 
Yet another
Before the world shuts down for me. 

Look at me


My eyes are the screen for you to watch.. 
Thousands of emotions playing for you
You might see or you may miss, 
But, it's there for you to see.. 

They are bereft of curtains, 
Except when I tear up, 
Amidst the droplets, 
You are welcome to watch.. 
The million expressions,
Whether angry or happy
They speak to you
About a beautiful heart. 

When you are absorbed with other things 
When I speak to you from behind, 
Turn and look at my eyes for a second, 
They hold several hundred shades of love. 

Look at me now
Look at me again
Look at me for a hundred times, 
In your eyes I will reflect, 
And in mine yours.. 
A billion times in and in
Our tale of love never dims. 



Two women, two states, one goal

  

A tale of two women, who were obsessed about Krishna, the yadhu kula prince. Govindha and Kesava, as he is fondly called, is followed by the cows and calves, his hair is adorned with Peacock feathers and plays venu, his flute. The magical music risen from his flute envelops everyone and make them forget everything but the divine music.

Andal, daughter of Periyalwar, a foundling, adored by her father, was brought up with verses on Krishna. She lived and loved Krishna. After hearing her father sing verses in praise of the divine child, from bala to kumara, Andal fell in love with Krishna. She imagined herself as a Gopika and followed the practices of Gokula. She wanted to marry Krishna. She had the support of her father, who not for a moment thought his daughter's idea of getting married to the lord himself is a crazy one. Her Naachiar Thirumozhi has a padhigam  where she creates the wedding scenario of her getting married to Krishna right from wedding procession to the lord marrying her. Every small details are captured with the most beautiful words, like fresh honey dripping out of honeycomb.

Meera, born in a royal Rajput family was a mystic poet. Her love for Krishna is evident in her poetry.  She has the wish of marrying Krishna. She clung to the idol of Krishna and he was her playmate and soul mate through her childhood days. Unlike Andal, she wasn't given the freedom of being unmarried.  She was married to the Bhoj Raj, the crown prince of Mewar. Meera holding on to Krishna bhakti never paid heed to the political and personal chaos around her. Her only thought was Krishna and her love for him made her invincible, who tried to even kill her. She kept singing about Krishna amidst poison being served to her or snakes trying to get a bite out of her and even when she was ordered to drown herself.

Both Andal and Meera sang songs that were dipped in love and bhakthi for Krishna.

Andal songs are romantic, carefree, playful, cheerful and she owns Krishna to an extent she even mocks at him in certain places.

Meera on the other hand sings soulful songs on Krishna. It has a melancholic touch, being married to the King and in love with Krishna, makes her long for her union with lord, at the Same time making it difficult to remain with her husband and going against societal norms. This drove Meera to the brim of despair, hoping against all odds and naturally her songs were full of despair, loneliness, yet the longing in her words, stirs at the heart of people. 

Andal her songs are not just about Krishna, everything surrounded him. She describes krishna, his various avatars, his conch, aadhisesha, his disc called sudarshana Chakra. She talks about Napinnai (Krishna's wife), yasodha, balarama, nandhagopala, devaki, vasudeva, the gopikas, the butter, curd, even the rope that was used to tie Krishna.  all the asuras who were sent by Kamas to kill Krishna. Andal's description of krishna is just not him, she loves everything that belonged to him. She has the audacity to even address Nappinai, Krishna's wife to give Krishna along with her fan and mirror.  Fan, mirror and krishna? It's a praise for Nappinai that Krishna had given her all the rights to handle him the way she can handle her fan and mirror. "Ukkamum thatoliyum thandhun manaalanai, ippodhae emmai neeraatu“.

Meera on the other hand sings about the dark skinned Krishna with his 'mor mukut' (peacock feather) and 'peethambara'  (the golden yellow dress Krishna wears) and 'bansuri' (flute). She immerses herself in her Khanna and doesn't give heed to the surroundings. She is content to have Krishna and the surroundings doesn't matter.

Chala wahi des,
Preetam pawa, jalaan wahi des
Kaho kusumal saari rangawa,
kaho tho bhagawa bhes.
Kaho toh motiyan maang bharaawa,
kaho chhitkaawa kes.
Meera ke prabhu Giridhar naagar,
sunagyo Birad nares.

Let's go to that region, to be one with my love. It does not matter if I have to wear colourful attire or saffron robe. It does not matter if I have to decorate my hair with pearls or to have dishevelled hair as long as Meera be with her lord of love, Giridhar.

If Andal and Meera meets...

Meera sings:

Mor mukut pitambar sohe
Gale vaijanti mala
Varidawan mein dhen charave
Mohan murli wala
Mane chakar rakho ji

Andal sings:

Karpuram naarumo, kamala poo naarumo?
Thirupavala chevvai thaan thitthithirukumo?
Marupositha madhavan than vaai chuvaiyum naatramum,
Viruputru ketkinraen solaazhi vensangae.

Meera:  Kodha  means creeper? You are the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I have a question for you.  How did you escape the clutches of the samsara? How did you escape getting married to a human? 

Andal: Meera, I was created beautiful for Krishna. You look serene and your untouched beauty was created for Krishna too. This body is just a vessel to hold the love for Krishna. My father Vishnu Chitha like nurturing a plant, nurtured Krishna's love in me.

When I was ripe for marriage, I prayed to Kamadeva(the lord of love). 

"Oonidai aazhi sangu uthamarkku endru unnittu ezhundha en thada mulaihal, maanidavarkku endru paechu padil vazhahillaen kandaai manmadhanae". 

(My bosom beats and waits for the lord who holds the conch and disc and I am not meant to live with human (the mortals).)  My father stood for me. 

Meera: Your poetry is full of beauty. Nature, birds, Krishna's avayava. I am so immersed in your poetry now and I do not want to spend my time away from it. 

Andal: Meera, I knew you were put to so many tests before you became one with him. How did you face them.  It is so easy to give up than stick on. Not having the support of your own family, the enmity of your in-laws, you are the bravest and the determined.  I respect you and want to join you in your bhajans. Let us slowly walk to Vrindavan.  Let us sing and dance and enter his fort to be accepted all over again. 

I want to sing with you,

"Yaad aave yaad aave
Vrindavan ki mangal leela
Yaad aave yaad aave
Krishna kanhaiya chhail chhabila
Yaad aave yaad aave
Sakhiyan ke sang jana
Nirmal jamuna neer nahana
Sab mil kar lalan gun gana
Kabhi kabhi val dars na pana
Yaad aave yaad aave
Nabh pe taro ka jhilmil na
Murli dhun sun dil khil milna
Kunjan kunjan mohan milna
Yaad aave yaad aave
Chandai madhu chandai raat mein
Ras rachana
Rup mantar se prem jagana
Krishan roop mein kridyan gana
Aabha ko parbhu ko mil jana
Yaad aave yaad aave
Koi kahe ye hai mitha sapna
Krishan kahani savimal rachna
More nahi kachu kahna sunna
More to brij lalan lalna
Yaad aave yaad aave. "

(Won’t those days when Krishna was growing up in Vrindavan comes back again? The son of nanda did so many miracles those days. Won’t those days comes back again?

All the people gathered and sang the praise of Krishna and bathed in the river Yamuna. They wandered all over the forest looking for Krishna everyday in order to get a glimpse of him.

The herd of Does was put to shame by the gopis. They and the sages were enchanted by the music of flute played by Krishna which made it feel that humanity is superior to celestial life.

He used to go to the forest accompanying the cattle to let them graze. He used to get dirty all over by the dust floating around. The celestials witnessing that desired to visit earth.

Ignorant Meera’s heart is occupied by giridhAri (one who held Govardhana). The lotus feet, sought by scriptures, sages, and Brahma--- must have hurt while walking the forest. Won’t such days come again?)

Meera: Giridhar stayed with me in my hearts and the belief in him, took care of all the obstacles. As you sang, he doesn't need weapons to destroy enemies. He didn't lift one during the great War of Mahabarath and he made me not to lift one during my war within me and with those who stood between me and Krishna, my lord. 

Holding their hands Meera and Andal sings in unison, language doesn't matter.. Only true love and devotion.  Their songs reverberated and reached Vrindavan, even before they reached the gates of Vrindavan. 


Image courtesy:
Meera: Meera Ho Gayi Magan in Sketching by Naveen Kumar Singh

wisdom comes with experience

At one, I learnt crawling was fun. At forty one, I still feel crawling is fun #blamemykneesnotme