SITA: The Peace Within

||Adaptations:second exile||

I have been here for a long time now. The routine goes on its normal rhythms like a ghost in disguise. It starts from my measuring the extra heaviness of my growing child, giving me the utmost pleasure of its awaited arrival, and then I go across the river for a bath. 

The women in the ashram, have a sweet way of addressing my problems (which are not problems as in real, but anyway) in bitter regret. 'Lord give you strength, child! Pray not anything more blasphemous befalls your path.' I counter such good wishes with a twitched smile. Nothing my husband has ever done, which can't be called sacred. The bath goes in certain gossips and a few knowledgable exchanges on astrology and the movement of stars. I love it, and I hadn't known it for a long time. My interest in philosophy and political science made me drop astronomy as a subject, but I guess now I have the time.

I am being given 5 meals, however sage Valmiki had pestered me for more. They make delicacies - ranging from sweet to sour. However my tastebuds were tilted for sweet, and I love things made of milk. In odd hours of ponder I could smell the palace kitchen of Ayodhya in my nostrils and the sweet humming of Urmilla's favorite melody as she would make a shikhanji in the afternoon. Anyways, I don't find the scented velvets of the palace attracting me anymore, they have been friends of another life. Rather, I must say, the alluring smell of soil and the burn of the sun massage was enjoyed by me in all circumstances.

The only thing which remains amiss is the presence of my beloved. 

I wish he was here to tell me how beautiful I have grown to be.
I wish he was here to measure the heartbeat of our unborn.
I wish he was here to feed me with his own hands. 
I wish we could have enjoyed the drops of every rain, the symphony of it having a dance on mother earth.

But then, I usually smile on my musings. My love wasn't bound by physical contact, nor by regret. However, a tension alludes my mind, of him blaming himself for whatever happened.I wish I could write some words of peace, on our love and his well being. Being with nature can never victimize me, being with the decision we made together could never torment me.

Sabarmati was a good companion I could count on. She was there like a shadow, following me everywhere, and being as compassionate and quite as possible. She would observe and ask for a few cooking tips as soon as she would find me drown in memories of my family. I could pick her antics and doings, reason them thoroughly and still get amused of her talent to extract happiness out of small occasions. 

The most awful part were the tranquil nights of the cool moonlight. Try as I might, I can't forget the pleasure I used to drive out of  the melodious vocals of the old martin, back in Ayodhya. Here, when she sings again, I feel myself closing my eyes, feeling the roughness of the odd mud floor for the first time. I feel the universe conspiring against my happy self, that how my own warmth was trying to burn me. 

Urmilla was always full of wisdom on seperations. She was a pioneer. Her words were a balm to my soul, my own reasonings needed her conclusions. She had stated so much on various occasions-

'I feel that love is for sustainence.It's a paradise. When we are so close to our loved ones, we live in fear. They might leave us, they might go away! There is a constant tug of emotions, a fear of being left alone in the oddest hour. Seperation- teaches us to breathe. It teaches us to live. It's a heaven, where there is no fear. And there is a certain amount of optimism and excitement of the ineviatble, or maybe something we may never accept. Pardon me for talking like teenage girls, but the intensity of love and the value of feelings are defined by the flame of fire that surrounds the heart in lonliness. I savoured it during the period of my own seperation from you and of course Sumitranandan. I was writing epiphanies....' Urmilla would open a parchment full of songs and poetries, if I could recount a few.

I again smile to myself, the vigour of blood returning in my veins. Then comes the awaited part, where I could feel Raghunandan walk around me in desperate laziness and enclosing my soul in his arms.

'People have so much to say about us' I would laugh at him.

'And we have so much to listen.' he would reply, the winds of solidarity defying the nature.

'And I pray that they undertand it one day, as nothing but hatred and remorse could be reaped out of such hearts. They don't know how happy and strong our bond is.' I would give explanations and Raghunandan would just nod around my nape.

A chill of wind, would flow against my spine, trying to teach me the presence of his sheer absence and again I would smile and fool my heart. 

Love is blind and I believe the bards.

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-Sita

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You make your own world
the emotions and rules of which you decide
the people who you allow

Then where would the explainations of failed love go?
when you were always with him
in your world

Where people who hated you
were never welcome

Then where would the explainations of failed love go?
when you were already laughing and dancing
rejoicing the union
of your and his soul.

(PS. Just remembered Urmilla's poem)

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