The fire my soul stirred, the fire my heart craved,
I housed devotion, love I had saved,
And when Krishna told me about you,
I knew my dream would be true.
In the painting, I first saw your face,
I held my breath, my heart skipped it's pace,
I heard tales of your valour, bravery, courage and pride,
And all I could ever think of, was to be your bride.
And with no childhood did I crave any desire,
I held the purity of fire in my breath, born from fire,
Firey in words, in every phrase I say,
But when I saw you, you had taken my breath away.
When at the temple that eventful day,
I lifted the veil, and my eyes met your way,
I recognised you, even in guise,
The man of strength, the man wisest of the wise.
How Karna might have won my hand,
To secure the uncertainty, I had to take a stand,
I got up and spoke for my own demeanor and poise,
That I would lovingly marry the man of my own choice.
You lifted the bow, you strung the thread,
Looking into the water, you bowed your head,
Your arrow struck the fish's eye, almost like a Cupid's bow,
And you won my hand and exchanged the wedding vow.
I knew that you were a prince deep inside,
Although you claimed to be a Brahmin with pride,
But I laughed along and spoke to you,
With childlike curiously and doubts a few.
We entered your cottage, a new place for me to abide,
And your mother was praying inside,
You told her you won a gift and asked her to see,
But every word of her's is an order, without looking at me.
And she told an only me to divide amongst the five,
Not a human, but an object alive,
How could I possibly divide my love,
But I tried to keep your mother's words above.
Now a Queen in proper crown,
I never let anyone's expectations down,
But I was staked at the Royal Court and humiliated without cause,
And no one said a word, nor asked them to pause.
And the same men who had vowed for my protection once,
Weren't responsible husbands, only dutiful sons,
And I looked towards you, for an answer to these lies,
But you looked away and turned your eyes.
Yet I forgave you and accompanied you for exile,
And hid my pain behind a simple smile,
I kept adhering to my own duty and service always,
Worshipping my husbands on even difficult days.
I played the role of a dutiful wife,
All along, throughout my life,
And yet when I breathed my last,
I was accused of being biased and not steadfast.
Why is it, O the owner of the Gandiva, answer then,
That I had to suffer so much, despite being the wife of the best of men,
My name is inked with both pen and pain,
I wish there's no sufferer like Draupadi again.
YOU ARE READING
Pristine Love - Poems of Divine Adoration
Poetry"Destiny clearly has a great and magical role in the coming together of two hearts which are meant to be together and beat as one." What does Love feel like? It must be truly divine for my heart beats with rhythm at the mention of My Beloved. Yes, L...
