A girl, she served the raging sage
In turn, he granted her those immortal boons
Which would call down a glowing god.
Who knew the truth of what he would do?
Not she.
And thus she bore a son so bright
With the sun god's glowing beauty and might
Yet, a girl, she feared for her good name,
Pushing the child far, far away.
Who was ready for motherhood?
Not she.
She made a pact to never tell, and
Her husband would never know the truth.
The cobweb of lies just got bigger and bigger.
Nobody could know how or when it'd cease to grow
And when her husband's breath left his lips, who went along?
Not she.
Her sons, so good, so brave, so true, so strong.
In the palace of intrigue, she was mother and father both.
Yet another boy lived, in insignificancy.
Never knowing his origins, his truth, his identity.
Who would stand to speak for him?
Not she.
And eventually, her words spiraled out of control,
Sharing her son's bride among the 5.
Who knew the bride's dreams, her love, her sighs,
As she was doomed to a life of polygamy?
Who would stand, to speak for a forlorn girl?
Not she.
And as the war crested upon them,
She began to panic, for her sons, five.
And thus, she begged the son whom
She'd previously let die for mercy, and family.
Who would accept the ripples of her deeds?
Not she.
And she cried over her son, alone.
Who would never know the love
Of brothers, or family, of belonging so deep
To anger the emperor so Dharmic, so strong.
Who would suffer the curse she brought on?
Not she.
Credits: Vyasa Mahabharatha (Translation by Ganguli)
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The Women Who Rolled The Dice
Historical FictionThe Mahabharata is a tale as old as time. One that has been retold over and over, through families, generations, and dynasties. Countless retellings have described the heroics of the Pandavas, the cruelty of the Kauravas, the dastardly deeds of Shak...
