Meera's Karma

This torment is an earthworm. It is dust. It is nothing.
I will not succumb to pain, despair and lethargy.

As Savitri found a way to be with her lord, so I shall find my way to dance for you, my Giridhari. Just as the world sees Savitri as a noble, faithful wife, so they shall see me as well.
And they shall see you as mine.
More Giridhari shall ever belong to Meera.

Your Meera is the fragile foam that crests the stormy waves of the ocean of Sansara. As the waves explode against the stony rocks of the towering cliffs that divide Meera from her love, you will hear the echo of her name. And the echo does not say Meera.
Meera...
Giridhari... Giridhaari... Giridhaaari...

How could the waves possibly overcome the mighty giri and take Meera to her pyaar? The world does not believe it is something a mere mortal can accomplish.
But it is Meera's karma to keep trying.
As she tries, day in and day out, her mind is swarmed by dreams.
Dreams of dancing at her loved one's soft, lotus feet. Feet that she clasps as tightly as a disciple holding fast to his guru's guidance.
Dreams that she is a shellfish torn inside, wracked with pain by the tiniest grain that is her love for Giridhari; waiting for her labor of love to emerge as a golden pearl.
And finally, a dream that one day, her little rascal will step away from his butter pot for an instant, hearing the crash of those waves and the cry of the melting foam. He will pluck the mighty cliff as though it were the most delicate jasmine and raise it aloft with a tiny finger. His other hand will caress the foam that is Meera, lift it gently so it does not dissolve, hold it to his soft cheek and nestle it to his breast.

This, too is Meera's karma.

Mohi laagi lagana gurucharananu ki
Charana bina kacchuvai nahimbhaavai
Jagamaaya saba sapananki
Bhavasagar saba sukha gayo hai,
Phikara nahimohi tarananki
Meera ke prabhu giridharanaagar asa vahi gurusarananki

A Gopika's New Year resolution

Akka? Wake up! Wake up!
Today is my little Krishna's birthday!
Come, let us sneak up and turn the tables on that little rowdy
This time, we get to be the ones to steal his clothes while he takes a bath
We shall blindfold him and offer him half-eaten fruits
We shall tug on his peacock feather, since he has no long braid
We shall steal his butter when he is looking the other way
We shall eat sand and open our mouths and astound him with a vision of love he did not know mere humans could possess
We shall compose a melody that lures him into our trap, sing him words that melt his butter heart, dance with him so he cannot contain his joy, flirt with him till he cannot bear the thought of losing us, look at him with sidelong glances that pierce his soul and draw him near, pester him while he is busy looking after the world and elicit a response that is to our advantage, look at him with eyes of self-pity and pouty lips as though we cannot with the tiniest effort break the bonds of this mortar, worldy existance, that he has tied us to...

I hear a tune - akka, do you? do you hear that melody? it is Him! we must resist! we must not run madly as though we are available to obey the every command of that little rascal! Remember our plan!

*blink*
What were we saying?

*breathe*
Akka... do you hear that flute?
No?
I don't either.
I should go back inside, my family will be waiting.
You should to?
Okay, we shall meet tomorrow.

*walk*
*walk faster*
*run*
*fly*
My Krishna! I see you! I hear you!

I love you.

Happy birthday.

I am women. Hear my plea.

Oh Little Saint,

I am women. Hear my plea...

I am battered. I am worn. I come from a sad place.I knew how to weep before I set eyes on my first sunlit day. I have stood naked, my strength laid bare before an army of men. They slaughtered my thoughts like a cry of hounds feasting on a wounded fox. They tore my dreams away, telling me I had traveled the forbidden world.

I fear my own laughter. I fear my reflection. I fear sight, smell, sound, taste and most of all touch. I fear to touch human flesh or to be touched - even to touch myself

It is nasty.
It is dirty.
It is bad.
It is evil.

I ask you, daughter of man and lover of god.
How did you learn to disregard the heavy words and sharp, solid stones of your fathers?How did you learn to love your Giridhari when they told you such love was wrong?
Please, lift me above these whirlwind fears like your Giridhari lifted the Mandara mountain.








Loving sisters,

I am no saint.
I have not risen above my fears.
I fear that my Krishna will forget me.
I fear that he will let me go and take up with some other gopika wench.

I do not fear the pain man might inflict upon me, simply because I have something far greater to fear.
The greater fear always takes precedent, just as the greater love, rendering all lesser fears and all lesser attachments trivial.

My suggestion - not advice - is that you find your true fear and true love.
Realize that all else is ephemeral.
Hold your fear and love as an impenetrable shield against all else and you will emerge through this battle victorious.
Dissove the bond that holds you within your oppressive shell and you will glow as a pearl of perfection.
The day you glow, victorious in battle, is the day you will find solace in the arms of happiness.

I despair and You are there.

I have indeed gone mad.
I am not in my right mind.
They are right – they said I was a crazy woman. They said my ‘bhakthi’ was not real. Anyone with bhakthi should be able to see the divinity in everyone before them. That is why we use the anjali when we greet anyone – because we see the divinity in them.
Why is it that I am lost in this fictitious love?
Why can I not be normal, Krishna? Why have you taken away my senses?
They thought marriage would cure me of my insanity. Why then must I still hanker after a love that is not in this physical plane?
Poor rana – I feel pity, when I see him. He is indeed in love with me – but as a person. His love is for this mortal flesh and physical mind. He cannot understand the depth of spirit that lurks in my kohl-lined eyes or the wounded heart that lies beneath these zari-lined folds.
If my bhakthi is real, why can I not see Krishna in this rana, the way the gopikas saw Krishna everywhere? Why can I not bring myself to believe the rana is my Krishna?
I have no desire to live anymore.
I despair.

eyes close…
darkness…
blink…
blink…
eyes open…

Krishna!
My eyes see none but Krishna.
I see my Krishna everywhere!
I know nothing but Krishna!

Iss matwali kaari duniya mein
Morai Kaanha, tohe kahan dhoondhu mai,
Mein tori raah ektook ho dekhoo
Bus aur kuch bhi naa janoo mai


Editor’s note: My Krishna works in mysterious ways. Most of all, He likes to wait until I despair before He reveals himself to me. I need but cry and close my eyes and think, ‘Giridhari? Giridhari… Giridhari! GIRIDHARI! giridhari… giridhari…’ and lo! He is there in all His heart-wrenching beauty. Once I let go of this world, He pulls me back and tells me my life is not over yet. He will give me a reason to stay only if I give Him my reason to leave.

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.

left.
right. center.
right.
right, left.
right left right.
leftrightcenterrightleft.

eyes wide open.
i see You!
there You are@!
i know You are there. i saw You!
You rascal.
You cannot escape from me.
nor i from You.

Today i wed, Krishna!
i wear the pink choli with the gold zari work.
i wear the henna peacock on my hands.
gold necklaces weigh down my light head so my eyes, black with kohl, must look down.
my wrists bear heavy gold kankans and my ankles adorn silver gunguru, which shackle my winged feet to this world.
today i wed.

i see a procession of elephants proudly displaying ambaris, flapping their ears, happily.
i see hoards of people, rejoicing that their rana is to be wed to a beautiful girl.
i see sellers of musk, fans and flowers for guests to bless the new couple with.

i see all of this and more.

today i wed.

i close my eyes.
jhoolatha radha sanga giridhara...

in my heart i see us sitting on a swing.
in my heart there are sounds of cymbals and mridangs.
in my heart there are gopikas dancing in joy.
the girls shoot arrows of color in the air and the arrows pierce my heart.
stricken, i fall.
and as i fall, my beautiful giridhari catches me.

today i fall, Krishna.
Catch me!