Monday, 22 January 2018

Writing a wrong

“If my daughter can lift Shiva’s bow,
Her suitor’s threshold can’t be set low.”*
Patriarchy needs male forearms to be more sinewed,
Even if the woman has been with brawn power imbued.
Visibly unflinching, Rama reeled under the expectation’s weight
Before he could be rid of it, Sita would have to have a long, long wait.
The Swayamvara was all wrong, the woman shouldn’t have set the task
To understand this she must follow him into the forest, no questions asked.
Boundaries had to be defined,
Sita needed to be confined.
Crossing the line, for her, was no big matter,
When all it meant was a change of captors.
But it was another occasion for Rama to show her her place,
The god she had pedestalized now pushed her from grace.
Now it would be as it should be, the man would set the test,
Wagging tongues about who wore the pants could be finally put to rest.
To accept or to reject must be his decision,
About the order of things 
there must be no confusion.
Once the rules were clear, she could sit by his side,
A woman can be the queen, after the king so decides.
The scales had been set right, a jubilation had to follow,
For the photo to be clicked and hung in the temple, Sita must bury her sorrow.

First published in Hakara, 15 Jan 2018.




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