Sunil P. Narayan
USA
Īshwar and his lover saved Bhūmī-Devī from persecution, thus the many arts of mankind blossomed like the mallikā
Everywhere the delightful scent of Svargáloka encircled the minds of unimaginative men and women
Thrusting them into a fantasy of a guarded jungle with celestial flowers and rivers endlessly flowing towards the sunset!
Blue butterflies follow the trails never taking a moment to rest
While the selflesss Parinirvivapsā-Devī will offer a tender touch to any one who asks, her abundant hair began to fall to the grassy floor
No one knew about this humble maiden who kept two isolated lovers alive for many years
She was stricken by a dreadful abandonment It is the thorny fate all women run away from
One warm night, a small bhūruha containing the heart of the divine muse dropped onto the bank
She grabbed it before the hovering balíbhuj could swoop down
It was the fire that consumed Īshwar and Parīkṣit during their lovemaking
Too hot and heavy to hold when fresh but glistening and light when cool
As she lost herself in admiring the pearl, its surface changed from white to deep red
Parinirvivapsā-Devī turned away from Rajanīpati-Devá, hiding her treasure with kuṅkumam palms for no one can take away what is rightfully hers!
She had no diamonds or turquoise jewelry yet
Rajanīpati-Devá is bedecked with nīlagandhika pādakilikās and maṇícīras
Śatárūpa-Devī’s gift to her shall be hidden in the soil so no one can find it!
The next morning Parinirvivapsā-Devī saw a woman clothed in a light yellow śāṭī in the forest inhaling the
mixture of campakas, bakulas and mādhavīlatās
She carried a basket of yellow kundamālā though did not speak
Her eyes were two blue pools reflecting the majestic Candrá-Devá
Hidden by a yearning for love in the form of deep pink satin
The ethereal seer’s skin as white as the yuthikā had no scars
It was adorned with māṇikyamaya armlets and necklaces of yellow, orange and white!
The hair woven tightly was covered by long strands of mālatī
On each wrist a prāvṛṣya bracelet sparkled under Sūrya-Devá
No parāgas were worn though the śāṭī covered her feet She walked from one mākanda tree to another, her dress fresh as if it were just bought at the market!
Her long neck lengthened to capture the scent of fragrant orange flowers
She is a perfect jewel unknown to mankind yet loved by the Divine!
A secret pearl offered to a miserable woman as a gift for showing compassion towards the son of Sarasvatī-Devī Parinirvivapsā-Devī’s daughter looked at her for a few minutes
In her mind she heard the name “Ouimi”
Sounds can be rubies crushed by hammers but to her they were the jingling of maṇíguṇanikara
When she awoke from a nightmare she heard the calming name “Ouimi” from the rāgitarus
A lost spirit whispering her name
She seems so far away like the golden rājabhavanam of Mahādevī
Unreachable by a small being such as an earthly creature
A tired devī touched her tummy, surprised by a life forming inside
She was left wondering how such a miracle could befall her
For many months her belly swelled while the mādhavīlatās continued to multiply
It was the least a celestial plant could do for a generous friend
When Ouimi saw her mother for the first time she gazed at her with sincere gratitude
The varṣártu grew more violent yet no rain drop touched the radiant face of a newborn child
Sāvitrī-Devī blessed the loving nourisher with an oracle inside a red jewel
By instinct Parinirvivapsā-Devī buried it near her resting spot
It is where Sāvitrī-Devī dug it up and pushed inside the motherless āryan’s mind while she slept
To mankind a gift is an oracle who can guide them to righteousness, though to a woman a child is all she wants
She can wear the most luxurious garments and still feel empty if there is no one to share them with
A child is her pricelesss treasure for each moment
is more valuable than a parihārya or parihāṭaka set with bhārgavakas
Collecting mālatī off of vines that cover marble sculptures is the enchanting Ouimi’s favorite activity The smile of each one belongs to Lakṣmī-Devī
She touches the hard lips to feel the expanding
warmth
It has an alluring scent that rubs against her cheeks to give a permanent perfume!
Every day a blissful mother laughs with her daughter till Sóma-Devá awakens from his needed rest
It is the sound of a dundubhí echoing through the minds of all mortals, devás and devīs
When the rain hits the ground hard these creatures hide under the branches
The giggling of Ouimi helps them to endure the temper of Índra-Devá
Ouimi has no reason to be angry since she sits on the vájratulya laden chair of Bhūdevī
A fortunate fate she received when her mother and Bhūdevī became sisters
The comfortable lap of a selfless mother is what Ouimi will ask for in every afterlife
Nothing to her but the unlimited grace of a mother matters