Shashi Badri( of the full moon)
Mythologies are what you construct over the city that will not mould itself to your wishes, that suggests names to you and little more. Usha Saher, make me a new myth of morning.
Al Buraq. I look at the Ravi Varma print of Al Buraq.. the young woman's face so much like the face of one of my students, who wants to study a lot in a hurry, become a very good artist, put all her energy into doing the correct thing. Except the face in repose has this possibility of another story, this intriguig Al Buraq face
making time as nothing happens, i find many things, prints, pictures, i find nothing I look at my prints, Ravi Varma, a pack of cards and try to write them in Urvashi Puruvuras- the man who did not feel loved enough Shakuntala- the girl who only wanted a love story and had to learn being abandoned therefore
तुम काग़ज़ के टुकड़े पर बाल पेन को गोल गोल चालते हो ना, पुराने टेलिफॉन के तार सा आकार.. बातचीत चलती रहती है, तो पेन भी .. काग़ज़ छोटा सा है, तो वही आकार बढ़ता जाता है, तार के ऊपर तार के अनगिनत संस्करण होने पर क़िस्सी नयी आकृति की झलक दिखने लगती है ना, काग़ज़ पर? बस यही मितोलॉजी है, मेरे अनुसार.. विभिन्न संस्करणों का एक काग़ज़ पर आर पार हो जाने से जो नयी आकृति दिखती सी है. बूढ़ी अम्मा जो खाट से उठती ही नही, वहीं बैठे बाकछे पालती है, चूल्हा डालती है, टट्टी पिशाब भी करती है, ना हत्ती है ना हिलती. वही गुड़िया है. बारह बच्चे गोद पर डाले जो लाफ़िंग बुद्ध कहलाता है, वही वो अम्मा है.
With unmoistened skins the Immortals—saw she, and with moveless eyes; Fresh their dust-unsullied garlands—hovered they, nor touched the earth. On his shadow garland-drooping—soiled with dust and moist with sweat, On the earth Nishadha's monarch—stood confessed, with twinkling
in the forest In the agony of famine—Nala, after many days, Saw some birds around him settling—with their golden tinctured wings. Then the monarch of Nishadha—thought within his secret heart, These to-day my welcome banquet—and my treasure these will be. Over them his single garment—spreading light he wrapped them round: Up that single garment bearing—to the air they sprang away; And the birds above him hovering—thus in human accents spake, Naked as they saw him standing—on the earth, and sad, and lone:— "Lo, we are the dice, to spoil thee—thus descended, foolish king! While thou hadst a single garment—all our joy was incomplete."
Karkotaka the serpent to Nala
King, this salutary poison—gives to thee nor grief nor pain; In the battle, chief of Rajas—victory is ever thine.
Rituparna the king to the disguised snake bitten Nala Of my horse be thou the master—hundred hundreds is thy pay:
On yon tree are leaves how many?—Vahuca, how many fruit? Say, how many are there fallen?—one above a hundred, there. One leaf is there 'bove a hundred—and one fruit, O Vahuca! And of leaves are five ten millions—hanging on those branches two. Those two branches if thou gather—and the twigs that on them grow, On those two are fruits two thousand—and a hundred, less by five
the king stops on the way to the second announced swayamvara of damayanti and while nal, in disguise created by his disfigurement by a snake bite, as charioteer, fixes the wheel, the king says of the fruit heavy Vibhitak tree
"Now, O charioteer, in numbers, thou shalt see my passing skill. Each one knows not every science—none there is that all things knows: Perfect skill in every knowledge—in one mind there may not be. On yon tree are leaves how many?—Vahuca, how many fruit? Say, how many are there fallen?—one above a hundred, there. One leaf is there 'bove a hundred—and one fruit, O Vahuca! And of leaves are five ten millions—hanging on those branches two. Those two branches if thou gather—and the twigs that on them grow, On those two are fruits two thousand—and a hundred, less by five."
the undespised- what Damayanti keeps calling Valuca, the deformed charioteer. Nala has to be transformed from the undespised to the king of men'
Haryanvi Svaang- Nala and Damayanti