Meera, the doll

Meera the doll…

With twinkling eyes and fiery spirit, she leapt into the air like a newborn phoenix. The embers flashed from the tips of her wings and scattered the entire universe. Even in the shadows of her fires, the gold bangles glinted, full of joy, anger, sorrow, bliss, life! She pounced on her prey with such single-mindedness, she saw nothing of her surroundings – only the wide, round, stark black eyes draped in purple-gold lids garnished with pepper-black lashes. As she neared her target, as it became too apparent that she could not miss, she found herself tumbling, tumbling, falling to the ground in a faint.

Where is my Krishna? He was right there! I saw Him!

To heck with Him. I’m on my own now. I’m tired of being hurt. I’m tired of the dreams.
I’m tired of waiting and waiting. I have a king and he loves me. I have the world, and it loves me. What need have I for my Krishna?

My Krishna…


This is not a need. This is not even a want. It is. It just exists. To quantify it, or to understand it is not possible. Every woman loves Krishna. Every woman is a gopika, in search of her Krishna. She tries and she tries but mostly in vain. She looks for her Krishna in each and every man she encounters. This is a part of a woman’s existence. This love, prema, is not just physical or mental or emotional. It is spiritual. Society would have us search for our Krishna in only a husband – the reality is, Krishna exists wherever He wants to, and if you listen to society, you might miss him. A husband, a friend, a lover, a brother, a son, even in sound, song, and inanimate objects – there’s a reason the navavidhabhakthis (re: June 2006) are not solely romantic. The essence of prema is bhakthi, after all, and it is possible to find our Krishna anywhere.

If you find your Krishna, do not let go. He is a little rascal and He’ll try to run away. Do Not Let Go. Without Him there is no existence.

Thum bin rahyo na jaay….

Pyare darshan deejo aaj, thum bin rahyo na jaay…
Jal bin kamal chand bin rajani, aisi thum dekhya bin sajani
Aakul vyakul phirun raina din, birah khalejo khaay!
Divasa na bhook, neendu nahin raina
Mukh soonkatha naave baina
Kahaan kahoon kachu kahatha na aave, Milkar tapatha bhujaaay.
Kyo tharsavo, antharyami? Aaya milo, kirupakaro swami!
Meera dasi, janam janam ki, padeen thumare paay!

A mother's love

And so with great pomp and splendor our Meera was wed. The elephants with their ambaris, the flowers, the sounds! And on the Jhoola, she saw none other beside her than her Giridhari.
All rejoiced - even the Rana's other wives.
The Rana's mother had officiated at the other weddings. This one was much the same to her. The jari on the pallu of her new daughter-in-law's sari was grander, yes, and the music was louder. But it was not any of that that made this wedding different.
This time, here was a beautiful and strong woman that her son was truly in love with. Here was a beauty that was strong and crazy! This was the one she had brought her son up for.
A young atom of green energy sowed its roots in her heart. This time, her son would bring jewels home and bring them not to his mother, but to Meera. This time, there was a brain behind the beauty. Her son would seek advice and comfort from another.

Imagine for a moment, the predominant culture. A tradition in which a man must be a MAN. A tradition in which there is no regard for womanly feeling. Then imagine bringing your son up to withstand that culture, yet still maintain a modicum of sensitivity. Imagine teaching your son a woman's needs are not only in the bedroom, but also in art, in beauty, in society, in culture - in short, in every realm of the kingdom. Imagine enjoying the wealth of wisdom that you have given your son, since you are the smartest woman he has encountered.

Then imagine losing it.
You are no longer the one he runs to when he's just passed a judgment on an interesting case. You're no longer the one he runs to when he has just put a man to death by his own sword. You're no longer the one he shares his favorite - and your favorite - dish with. No longer the one that sings him a lullaby when he is troubled and cannot sleep.

Green energy can be difficult, but the knowlege that you have created this truly wonderful man and given him to a beautiful daughter-in-law can be gratifying.
Is it gratifying enough?

Meera is and has competition, like it or not.