The curse of Gandhari - a poem

 The curse of Gandhari- a poem

This poem was performed by me in Maanini a story performance.

Oh the stench! The stench most vile! 

The cries of unceasing sorrow rile

The minds eye springs pictures hideous

Annihilating the hiding places, ruthless

I Gandhari, the queen of Hastinapur,

 The mother of  a hundred sons,

Stand amidst the blood strewn war ground

Of each of my hundred ones

I hear my maids gasp in horror,

Its all red and a putrid brown

Queen  fortunate you are for 

You can blind it down

I stop her with a  queens wave

Why should it matter, the colour

Surely a Kshatriya’s grave

Would be a picture of valour

Describe it to me , I command my maid

How does it look, the battlefield of the warriors

Are my brave sons still  blaring their contempt

From beneath the shuttered eyelids?

Is  the halo of  the brave hearts

Hovering around my own hundred?

But then, A tremble of fear infused my being

I pleaded, A queen  turned to a mother aching

Sugandha, tell me,

 I beseech you,

Tell me not what i fear,

But tell me what I want to hear?

The lowly maid replied,Alas O Noble queen!

I am sorry, I see none of that

I see mangled bodies,  seared chest

Mutilated limbs and smashed skulls.

 The sad strewn broken weapons, 

Mirror their scarred broken  souls

Warriors who  begged for a day one more

When  Yama stood at their door

Keep quiet, you wench! I scream. 

Don't disrespect my sons supreme

I lash, I ,onto my sons lap I fall 

and see  my false hopes dissolve

Ah , I wish   Krishna   had made me see

The cascading misery  that would  come to be.

Why didn’t  the all knowing one caution me, 

About the  outcome of  the Kaurava trickery!

If he had, I would have looked out 

When my sons  stumbled and caught them!

When they strayed and blundered,

With a stern glance I would have  thundered

Wait, Even a mother’s  gentle  glance of censure

Could have been enough to correct the hundred?

Is this your Dharma Murari?

 Demented, I screamed 

The wheels of time you held

Yet, the injustice, you simply beheld?

So  many that I will fail to count

It wounds me, yet I will recount.

Dhritarashtra , the  deserving elder one was crowned  a King  as hand me down.

Brave, beautiful, Gandhari,  the queen,was tied up in a blind marriage leaving her unseen

Men possessed  with a hateful  vice placed  and lost  their wife Draupadi, in a a  sinful game of dice

Moulded insecure by  fate for no fault of his Duryodhana, One among the 106, 

Kurukshetra- A carnage beyond imagination, A war that was doomed to destruction

 Abhimanyu, Loving, noble, brave child,best of all , my  grandson needlessly sacrificed in the war

Krishna, why  did you let the wheel  of time slip Slide, crash and  hurtle away from your grip?

The howls of the wolves out for the flesh

 And The calls of the vultures reverberated

Tears dripping Sugandha whispered  in distress 

Let us go queen, WE are powerless.

No!  I will stay here till the end of time descends

Keeping them safe and sound from the scavengers

Go home and leave me alone with my own sons

Drenched in my own past to find my own answers

Leave they must have, for

 I could no longer sense the living

A long time must have passed, 

Many days maybe, I was not counting

When above the howls of the wolves

When I heard my stomach grumbling.

 The tender touch of a loving  hand I felt

 Wait, Was one of my sons alive?

No! It was Madhava,  who beside me knelt

It was his  sympathy that I smelt.

Madhava  who had this war scripted,

Murari who  had left  my  happy  nest vacated,

But why did I in his arms melt?

My life he has turned and twisted.

I tried to  envelope myself in hate.

But when he spoke, i felt my angst abate

Gandhari, open your eyes, its long past dawn. 

 You will see that your sons are gone.

Madhusudhana, you will never know 

The pain of the daggers that stab a mothers chest,

When she sees her own sons dead

I wish I could make you feel the sorrow.Don't ask me to go!

I heard him from within a haze

Gandhari, a pain is but a pain

Until it's replaced by another.

This  pain will subside too,

No matter how much it weighs

What was he saying?

I could not concentrate.

The sweet smell of mango in this grave?

Who cares! It has been long since I ate.

Where is the elusive fruit?

My nostrils  led my hands

IIt seemed to dangle high above

Maybe on a stone, I should stand

The longing for the mango, I could not withstand

I bent to drag a few rocks and climbed on

The battle, the  day, the death seemed distant

 I finally plucked one,  brought him to my mouth and

I giggled,  the juice squirted

Down on my bosom it dripped

I threw the core and searched for more

Surely this  tree had a score.

My hands extended  again following my nose

I stood on my tippy toes

Suddenly the rock sank beneath

Soft as flesh, rubbery as meat

 I snapped out of the trance

 I recoiled in  nauseated  horror! 

Had I, Had I stood on my sons?

Had I, had I giggled at their grave?

Did I have the juice of mango on me?

OR was it the  juice of their veins?

Rage blinded my eyes as I fell 

What a cruel way  to teach 

Making me confront my  hunger

In the time of the deepest grief!

My trembling body  turned  bitter with bile

A curse  left my being, unchecked, untied,unleashed

May you Krishna witness the death of your children and your children’s children. 

And may you die alone in the forest, hunted down like a beast.”

 What had I said to the  the lord,my dearest?

The salt of my tears  drenched my folly

I had cursed and wished  him the worst

Could there be a redemption for me?

I beseeched him , Janardhna , MUKUNDA

Correct me , chastise me, and revoke my curse

Instead he hugged me and let me sob

And whispered in a dulcet voice

O Queen, your curse will not be in vain. 

It  will find its mark.

The world will know that 

  hate and war  are the harbingers of pain

The world will know that 

Desolate will be the efforts for deceitful gain

The world will see O Gandhari,

 what you never choose to see,

That the wheels of time  and justice  equality do maintain

For all, be it the  kings,  paupers or even the Gods!

From Bhagavadgeetha

krodhaadbhavati sammohah sammohaatsmritivibhramah |

smritibhramshaadbuddhinaasho buddhinaashaatpranashyati ||

From anger comes delusion; from delusion, confused memory; from confused memory the ruin of reason; from ruin of reason, man finally perishes.